


Not Alone

by xoxomj



Category: Jagged Little Pill - Morissette & Ballard/Morissette/Cody
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Assault, Rehabilitation, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22448434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxomj/pseuds/xoxomj
Summary: The Healy family helps MJ in the immediate aftermath of her overdose through to recovery at the Keystone Center. Strong TW for mentions and discussions of sexual assault and drug overdose.
Relationships: Mary Jane "MJ" Healy/Steve Healy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. What's the Matter, Mary Jane?

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best to do some research about opioid overdose/rehab/recovery, but I'd like to apologize in advance if this is not the most accurate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds MJ after she overdoses and she gets taken to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: 3/29 - some details about MJ and Steve's backstory (as the actors imagined it) were revealed which changed some of the things I'd made up, so I made changes accordingly!

Steve trudges up the path back to the house. Today had been an unbearably long day, between work, therapy, Frankie running away, and back to work again. He stops at the front door, taking a deep breath before he opens it.

“I’m back!” Steve calls out, turning on the light in the entryway. Weird, he thinks to himself. Normally MJ would have left that on for him.

There’s no answer. This normally didn’t unnerve him much, but right now, it felt as though the hairs on his skin were standing on end. He has a weird, sinking feeling something is wrong.

He puts his coat on the hooks by the door, dumps his briefcase on the side table, and tosses his keys into the bowl next to it. Peering up the stairs, he sees a light on in Nick’s room, but the door is closed. Nick’s probably doing homework. He doesn’t see a light on in Frankie’s room. He rubs his face. Hopefully she’s just... at Joanne’s or something. Hopefully she’d come back so they could sort out whatever was happening... He texts her his 10th ‘Where are you?’ text of the day and sets off in search of MJ.

He wanted to apologize to her. He’d thought about calling her, or even texting her, but he thought it was better to do it in person. He’d said some pretty awful things, and... well, he truly didn’t mean it. He knows Frankie doesn’t hate her, and he knows he also doesn’t hate her. He loves her more than anything in the world, and would give her the moon if he could. He wants to go back to what they were like before, where she responded to his affection, talked to him about her day, and didn’t bite his head off every time he said something. 

“MJ?” He walks into the kitchen, where she’d normally be at this time of day. The light is on, and there’s a mixing bowl on the table with some partially made quiche. It’s not like MJ to leave something unfinished, so she must be in the house somewhere.

“MJ?” He calls again. He peeks into the dining room, before flipping the light on. Nothing.

He walks back through the kitchen, peering up the stairs again - there’s no light on in their room, or the guest room.

The living room is dark. Even the Christmas tree lights are off - this is it, this is what unnerved him. MJ normally left the tree lights on all day and all night long, so the fact that they were off did not bode well for his uneasy feelings. It’s eerily quiet. 

He looks around for any sign of MJ, before a slight movement on the floor catches his eye. There was something there. No, not something. Someone. 

The moment he registers it's MJ—unmoving, unconscious, body completely limp—he snaps into action. He rushes towards her, trying to shake her awake. Her face is completely white, beginning to turn blue, and her skin feels clammy and cold as he attempts to rouse her. “MJ, wake up. Please. MJ- Mary Jane...” He checks her pulse; it’s slow. “Nick!” He screams. “Nick, come here!”

Steve’s hands can’t stop shaking as he tries to wake her up. He elevates her head, moving it to his lap, and begins gently patting her face in an attempt to get her conscious. “Nick!” He screams again.

Nick comes in and flips on the light, before dry heaving at the sight in front of him. “What happen-"

“CALL 911.” Steve demands, still trying to get MJ conscious.

Nick does, and Steve can distantly hear him speaking the operator as he stares at his unconscious wife intently, looking for any signs that she’s responding to him. Nothing.

He can feel his own panic rising from his belly, but swallows it down; that won’t help right now. He attempts to listen for her breathing, hushing Nick. What seems like an eternity passes, but he hears her exhale. A small relief. He holds her hand, squeezing it, at his wits end for what else he could possibly try to get her awake. 

The paramedics arrive but he doesn’t move from MJ’s side, refusing to let go of her hand, still trying to wake her up. Immediately, they recognize the signs of an overdose, and prepare to administer naloxone. “Overdose? That can’t be-“ He stammers, but the paramedics insist.

A few minutes after the naloxone, she starts breathing again, color starting to return to her cheeks. Steve barely registers any other sounds, entirely fixating on MJ, so relieved to see her chest rise and fall. 

“She has to stay awake.” One of the paramedics says. Steve nods. “We have to keep her awake for as long as we can.” 

“C’mon MJ...” He whispers, kissing her forehead, hand shaking as he moves some hair out of her eyes. “Stay with me...” Her eyes open for a brief moment, but flutter closed again. He keeps squeezing her hand, patting the side of her face. Another paramedic hands him a water bottle, instructing him to pour a bit down her throat. He helps Steve keep her mouth open; she gags and opens her eyes.

MJ’s eyes grow wide as she registers that she’s on the ground with everyone looking at her, and Steve can see her start to panic. He helps her sit up, gently supporting her back. “What’s going on?” She says, her voice sounding so small and scared. He’d never heard her sound like that before, and he wants nothing more than to protect her. 

“You overdosed.” A paramedic replies, preparing an oxygen mask for her. “Here, let’s get this on you...”

“What? No, no, no, can’t be-“ Her breathing gets shorter as her heart starts to race, and Steve can see the color start to leave her face again. The paramedic places an oxygen mask on her, walking her through the process calmly and gently, but MJ starts to shake, panic and shock clear in her eyes.

She can’t stop shaking, her breathing incredibly shallow. The paramedic attempts to calm her down, but she isn’t listening, and Steve knows her own inner monologue has taken over. He’s vaguely aware of one of them asking him quietly if they can sedate her, and explaining why. He nods. “Do whatever you need to do.” 

Within a few minutes, MJ has relaxed and is breathing normally, eyes closed in what appears to be a peaceful slumber.

“We need to get her to the hospital.” They prepare to transfer her to a stretcher.

“Will she be okay?” Nick asks. Steve suddenly remembers that he’s there too.

“We need to run some tests to evaluate the severity of her overdose, we’ll have more information once we’re at the hospital.” The paramedic says matter of factly.

They move her onto the stretcher, and Steve follows them as they take her into the ambulance. He hears Nick say he’s following in the car behind, and that he’s texted Frankie, but Steve doesn’t take his eyes off of MJ.

The ambulance ride feels like an eternity. MJ lays there, unmoving, pale, as Steve sits by her side, holding her hand, rubbing her shoulder, listening to her even breathing. He bites his lip to keep from crying.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I’m sorry I said what I said earlier.”

“She can’t hear you.” A paramedic says gently.

Steve nods, wiping tears from his face. But he continues to apologize silently, pressing his lips to her fingers. 

He almost lost her. Mary Jane, the absolute love of his life, his soulmate, the woman he wanted to grow old with. He didn’t think he would ever be one to fall head over feet in love with someone, but there he was, hopelessly in love with her. Their first date went disastrously wrong because his car broke down and he had to call his brother to help him change the tire, and then by the time they’d fixed it the movie was almost over, but she gave him a second chance and he redeemed himself with a dinner at a nice Greek restaurant and then a walk through a park. And then there was another date, maybe it was the sixth or seventh, where he suggested they go ice skating together but he didn’t realize that she actually knew how, and had spent most of the time coaxing him away from the wall. Maybe a year into dating, they took a trip to Paris and visited a small museum but they ran out of English language guides, so they spent an afternoon making up random backstories about the art and cracking each other up so much that they were escorted out of the museum. He remembers psyching himself up to ask her dad permission to marry her, and then MJ laughing in his face when he told her he did. The first time he saw MJ in her wedding dress...

He’s startled out of his reverie by the ambulance jolting to a stop. MJ is quickly moved out of the ambulance into the ER, where Steve is stuck behind closed doors, unable to see what’s happening. He peers through the round windows, seeing the top of her head underneath a mass of tubes and machines and nurses tending to her. It crushes him, seeing her so incredibly small like that. She gets wheeled further in, out of view, and Steve begins to pace rapidly, unable to keep still, not knowing what’s going on with her.

Nick finds Steve pacing. “Dad, Frankie’s on her way, Jo’s taking her.” Steve nods, pausing to put his hand on Nick’s shoulder, before continuing. Nick stands still, watching his dad walk back and forth.

At any sign of movement from the closed doors, Steve stops and immediately turns to look. He still can’t see anything. He becomes increasingly stressed, wracking his brain for some kind of explanation of how this possibly could have happened, but he can’t get past the first part: he almost lost her. That part echoes over and over and over, ringing in his ears. The image of her, lifeless on the living room floor, won’t leave his mind.

Finally, a doctor walks past.

“Are you Dr Woodson?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Steve Healy. Can you please give me an update on my wife.” Steve braces himself, not knowing what kind of news to expect.

“In addition to oxycodone, she also had fentanyl in her system.” While he knew that the paramedics thought she overdosed, this is not the news Steve is expecting. 

“What?”

“It’s a very powerful opiate, stronger than heroin.” 

“That’s… that’s not possible.” Steve shakes his head.

“Oxycodone is often contaminated with fentanyl. She might have gotten counterfeit pills off the street.”

“No. She had a prescription. She got in a car accident, she was still having trouble with her back.” Steve shakes his head again. MJ? Drugs off the street? It didn’t make any sense. 

“Actually she doesn’t have a current prescription with either of the doctors that you wrote down.”

“Could this be a mistake? She- she- she’s an amazing mother, she’s obsessed with her health, does she look like a drug addict to you?!” Steve can feel himself getting increasingly annoyed with this doctor.

“What do you think a drug addict looks like?” Steve hesitates. The doctor continues. “Did you notice any erratic behavior?”

Erratic behavior. He thinks back to earlier today. Oh… yes. He did. “Yes.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” Nick asks timidly.

The doctor looks at Nick, before speaking to Steve. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Nick, why don’t you go wait for Frankie.” Nick walks off, and Steve is alone with the doctor.

Steve follows the doctor into MJ’s room, and almost passes out at seeing his wife, small and vulnerable, in the hospital bed. It’s a weird sight, because MJ is normally so… strong, sturdy, infallible. “We have her on Buprenorphine to help with withdrawals but there could be serious long term consequences from an overdose like this. Once she’s discharged I would suggest she go to in-patient recovery.”

“She won’t do that.” Steve says, trying to imagine his wife at a rehab center.

“We strongly recommend it. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” The doctor leaves.

Steve stares at MJ, quietly sleeping. Her expression would be serene if it weren’t for the slight frown on her face, and him knowing what had happened hours earlier, and him now knowing about the drugs in her system. He’s on the verge of tears, at a complete loss for words. Who is this woman lying in front of him?

“Remember when we were younger, before the kids, we would party and drink too much and joke about going to rehab someday?” He sniffs, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly. “You did it!” He raises his arms in mock excitement. But it falls flat. “That’s not funny.”

His tears get caught in his throat, as he comes closer to the bed. “I thought after all this time we were done surprising each other.” He stares at MJ, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

He strokes her head with his hand affectionately, his tears finally falling. His perfect, unflappable, superhuman Mary Jane Healy is suddenly the most real, human person he knew. And she is hurting, and he wants more than anything to take that away and help her be okay again. There is so much work to be done. “What’s the matter, Mary Jane? You had a hard day?”


	2. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after MJ overdoses, Steve and MJ go through their first day of withdrawal together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies if the research I've done does not translate well!

Steve sits by MJ’s hospital bed, a glass of half-finished orange juice in his hands. He’s been up for almost a full 24 hours now, watching, waiting, just in case his wife wakes up. The early morning light is starting to peak through the blinds, and he can hear birds chirping. A couple of hours ago, she came to briefly, but she had been so scared and panicked that they ended up having to sedate her again. And my god, watching them sedate her for the second time was painful. The way she didn’t seem to recognize anyone or anything. The way she looked so small, anxious, like how Frankie used to look whenever she’d come running to their bed after a nightmare. The way her body shook uncontrollably. But the doctors reassured him it would be fine, she was just in shock, and a bit of rest would do her good anyway.

He glances at her again. MJ’s still pretty pale, but at least there’s some color in her cheeks. And they don’t feel clammy anymore. And she was breathing normally as well. Steve checked. Every few hours, he’d watch his wife’s chest rise and fall, timing her breaths, making sure they were regular and not erratic. He knows he didn’t need to- there’s a heart monitor right there making sure all was well- but all the same, he wants to be sure for himself.

He looks at his phone. The battery is at 5%. There’s a charger plugged into the wall, from when Frankie was here earlier and left it for him, but he doesn’t feel like moving. He stares at his phone, then at MJ, then back at his phone, then back at MJ.

The last time he had been in a room like this, Steve had rushed in and MJ was sitting up, a smile painted on her face, telling him he really didn’t need to leave work for her. He had thought it was genuine, but thinking back now, it wasn’t. He’d gotten the call that MJ had totaled her car, and he’d left work so quickly that he forgot to tell his boss until he’d received a call from him at the hospital. And after MJ’s first surgery after the accident, she basically told him to go back to work and to not worry about her, she’d be fine for her second and third ones. And so… he did. He wanted to worry, but MJ said that she was fine and wouldn’t let him think or say otherwise, so he believed her.

He glances at his phone again. 3% now. He looks at the photo on his lock screen. It’s of him, MJ and the kids in Amsterdam. MJ looks positively thrilled, while Nick looks somewhat bemused and Frankie looks bored. He looks at MJ on screen, then back at MJ lying on the bed. He takes a deep breath, drinking another gulp of orange juice.

He keeps replaying the scenario in his head. An endless stream of what ifs fill his brain on a loop. What if he had come home late? His boss had wanted him to finish something up for a case starting next year, but he’d told him he’d do it tomorrow, he had to go home now — because he’d wanted to apologize to MJ. But what if he’d said yes? What if he’d still been mad? What if he’d missed the train he had barely caught? What if he had to wait for the next one, which wasn’t for another hour?

And it hits him, again. The image of her unconscious, unmoving body on their living room floor. The paramedics had said they were lucky they’d called when they did — it hadn’t been that long since she’d taken the pills. But if he’d had waited another hour...

He sets his phone and his glass down on the small table. He shakes his head, trying to get the intrusive thoughts out of his mind. There’s a small space on the bed next to her, and he climbs on, holding her hand. He places a protective arm around her head, tenderly stroking her hair with his knuckles while placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

He hadn’t cried much, really, but now, alone, just the two of them, he could feel his shoulders start to shake. It is a strange, out of body experience, as if he is watching himself cry next to MJ lying peacefully on the bed.

He feels her start to stir, and wipes his eyes immediately, getting off the bed but not letting go of her hand.

MJ opens her eyes for a brief second, but closes them immediately. Opening her eyes feels like too much work.

“Mary Jane, can you hear me?” Steve asks softly, letting go of her hand. 

MJ nods, before frowning at the harshness of the light. She rubs her face, shielding her eyes from the brightness. This must be what it feels like to be slammed repeatedly into the sidewalk by a bus. Her muscles ache, her body feels too hot, and there’s a pounding in her head that will not go away.

She can feel Steve tenderly move her hair from her face, brushing it away from her eyes. Finally, she opens her eyes as she sits up slowly. She glances around her. This is unfamiliar, yet also… very familiar. She’s in a hospital bed; there are a few tubes hooked up to her, and she can hear the gentle beep of a heart monitor. Steve is crouching by the bed, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days, staring at her with concern. “What happened?” She asks, the pounding her head starting to get louder and louder.

“Well, um.” He pauses, before deciding to continue. “You overdosed on oxycodone and fentanyl.” Steve says.

Oh shit.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Right. She tries to remember the past few hours. She can only remember flashes of the previous day. She remembers that horrific fight with Frankie, the one with Steve, the one with Nick, then meeting her guy out by the bank, then going back home… She gasps sharply, realizing what she had done.

“You’re okay, now, Mary Jane.” Steve says gently, rubbing her hand reassuringly. 

“Oh my god…” She says breathlessly, letting out a strangled sob. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” MJ starts to shake, tears flowing down her face as the full impact of what must have happened occurs to her. Steve sits on the bed and brings her in close to him as she sobs, so quiet you could only hear her gasp for breath every few seconds. She wants to pull away because there is absolutely no way she deserves Steve’s affection and gentleness, but she is much too weak to protest.

When she can finally catch her breath, she pulls away, a wave of nausea hitting her. “I’m sorry.” She says. “You should... go. I’m fine.” She isn’t, obviously. She turns away from him, rubbing her arm. Her headache has worsened since crying, and she feels like she’s about to throw up all her organs.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you.” Steve says resolutely, holding onto her hand - the idea of leaving his wife for a even a split second makes his stomach lurch. MJ is too tired to argue. He notices she starts to look a little paler than usual, and places a hand on her back. She jumps at his touch, and he retracts his hand. “Sorry.” He says quietly.

“Oh, you’re up! Good morning, Mrs Healy.” A nurse comes in. MJ promptly vomits over the side of the bed, but the nurse is quick and manages to move an empty bucket to catch it. “Oof, close one there.”

MJ groans. The vomiting didn’t make her feel any better at all; in fact, somehow, she feels like there’s much more where that came from. She closes her eyes, leaning over the side of the bed, waiting for the next one.

“Good morning, Mr. Healy. Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” Steve lies. MJ can hear it too; he’s a terrible liar. The nurse raises her eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say a word. She dims the lights in the room, easing the harshness.

“Looks like you’ve got some nasty withdrawal symptoms.” The nurse says to MJ. She moans in response. Why’s this woman so goddamn cheery?

“Withdrawal...” Steve says quietly, as if tasting the bitter words in his mouth. ‘Yeah, fucked up, huh.’ MJ thinks to herself.

“Mrs. Healy, you’ll probably be feeling extremely nauseous-“ As if on cue, MJ vomits. The nurse kneels by her side, pushing her hair back so it doesn’t get any vomit on it. “You’ll want to drink plenty of liquids. I’ve left a few bottles of water here for you, and if you need any more you or Mr. Healy can just buzz for more.”

MJ can barely nod, she feels so sick. The nurse says a few words to Steve that she can’t hear, but soon enough she leaves and it’s just her and Steve again.

“I’m going to tie your hair back, okay?” Steve says from somewhere behind her. She feels him tenderly gather her hair up in a bunch and put it in a loose ponytail. “I hope that’s good, I’ve never been good at hair.” He laughs softly to himself.

She vomits again, and her body starts to shake. She closes her eyes, trying to control her tremors, but to no avail. “Mary Jane, I’m going to rub your back, okay?” Once again, she can’t protest, too focused on when her next wave of nausea will hit. She feels Steve’s gentle hand on her back, rubbing circles, his touch more tender and soft than she remembers it ever being. The other holds her hair back.

She hurls again, and groans. Her headache is intense now, and she wants nothing more than to just lie down, but her stomach is NOT having it. She tries to lie down for a brief moment but as soon as her head touched the pillow she needed to vomit again. It’s safer to sit on the side of the bed, ready to hurl at any minute.

“Mary Jane, can you drink some water for me?” Steve asks gently, shifting his position on the bed and supporting her more firmly. He sticks a bottle with a straw in front of her. She pushes it away, the thought of it making her nauseous. But Steve is persistent, so she finally takes a small sip.

And then she vomits again. And again. And again. And again. And again. It never seems to stop. Each time she thinks ‘surely I can’t vomit anymore’ she somehow vomits more. Each time, her body would shake with the force of it. Sometimes she’d choke or gag, and Steve would have to pat her back gently to help her clear her throat. Each time, Steve would hold her hair, rub her back, and urge her to drink water. An endless loop. She laughs in her head. “Just keeps going in a circle. That’s what loops do, they don’t change” she remembers herself arguing with Steve. Well this loop is certainly different from their usual. She leans on his shoulder as she waits for the next one, finally giving in to his support.

Steve can feel his wife getting weaker and weaker each time. If he could take her place and go through withdrawal instead of her, he would. Hasn’t she been through enough? It breaks his heart, hearing her retch, groan, and then struggle to take a sip of water. Each time, he feels more and more as though he is actually holding her up, that if he wasn’t there, holding her, rubbing her back, making sure she drank water, she might vomit and then disappear. 

But there is no way in hell that he will let her disappear. She is Mary Jane, dammit, his amazing wife. And he is going to be there for her and protect her no matter what. Well... he rolls his eyes at himself. He hadn’t been. But he makes a silent promise to himself and to MJ that he will be, and he will make up for his mistakes. Because he’s awake now.


	3. Asking for Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawal symptoms hit their peak and Steve calls for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm inventing a Healy family tree and a Healy family history. Also, withdrawal is really hard thing to write. I tried my best to do as much research as I could, but I'd still like to apologize for any inaccuracies there may be.

The next few days are rough.

Withdrawal symptoms tend to peak 72 hours after the last dose, and MJ is no exception to the rule. She thought the first day was hard, but BOY is she wrong. She feels as though she’s been through hell. Actually, Dante’s Nine Circles of Hell had NOTHING on withdrawal. Or maybe it was the 10th circle.

After spending much of her first day vomiting, she sleeps. But no sooner had she fallen asleep than she starts to experience other symptoms. She keeps waking up intermittently, only sleeping for 1-2 hours at a time, because her muscles ache so intensely, her chest seizes up too tightly it wakes her up, she feels too hot or too cold, or she needs to vomit again. It’s a vicious cycle, leaving little time for her body to recharge.

Steve refuses to leave MJ’s side. The nurses urge him to go home for a brief period, in order to get some rest and leave the hospital for a respite, but he is insistent, and only leaves MJ’s room if he is forced to, or has to use the bathroom. He does his best to sleep when she sleeps, but also spends a lot of the time just watching her sleep, making sure she is breathing well and her blood pressure is not too high.

On the third day, MJ’s symptoms are at their worst. She can barely hold herself up, she can’t keep any food or water down, and she has a raging fever. Her cheeks are flushed red with how hot her body temperature is, but she won’t stop shivering, and keeps the blankets around her shoulders tightly.

Steve places a cool towel on her forehead, wiping some of the sweat away from her face as she sleeps. Her fever has plateaued, but it isn’t going down. MJ shifts, a small frown forming. He holds his breath, waiting to see if she wakes up, but she doesn’t.

“Mr. Healy, please go home.” A nurse says quietly, glancing at him as she comes in to check MJ’s vitals again. “You need to rest.”

“I can’t.” He says, his voice shaky. From lack of sleep, from stress, from worry, from... what exactly? He’s not sure.

“If you’d like, we can pull out the cot for you again.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe sleep in it this time.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t take his eyes off of MJ, watching her labored breathing. The nurse leaves, verifying everything is okay, promising to set up the cot within the next hour. He makes another cool compress.

MJ suddenly opens her eyes, and Steve, recognizing the signs, immediately holds a bucket in front of her. Body shaking, she vomits violently into the bucket, the contents of the small meal she had forced down earlier refusing to stay down. Steve places the bucket back on the ground before wiping her mouth as she stares listlessly into space, too weak to try and push his hand away.

“How are you doing?” He asks quietly.

She doesn’t answer, but turns away from him, curling up in a fetal position, shivering. He walks to the other side of the bed, crouching so he’s eye level with her, another cool towel in his hand. He touches the towel on her cheek, and she winces, the coolness of the cloth jarring her, and she tries to move the blankets to hide her face. “Sorry.” He says, but still dabs at her face to try and cool her down.

She stares at him, but not really. He can tell she’s not looking at him. He observes her as he gently pats her face with the towel. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks hollow, and, despite the flush on her face, she’s pale. It’s hard to look at, sometimes. He’s so used to seeing MJ on her feet, ready to go, rarely stopping to rest. Even when she did get sick, or when she had Nick… she was up and moving and… never remotely this sick.

“Mary Jane, do you think you can eat something?” He asks gently, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head.

“What about drinking some water?”

She shakes her head again.

“The nurse suggested you suck on these, so you can rehydrate.” He holds an ice chip in his hand. “Can you try and suck on this for me?”

MJ opens her mouth dutifully and sucks on the ice chip, wincing at the cold. After a few seconds she stops and covers her mouth with the blankets. She stares at him. “Okay, that was a good first try.” Steve relents. “But you’ll need to try again.” She whimpers and turns back around. He sighs. “Okay, not now though.” He puts the compress down and rubs his face as he walks back around to the other side. He pulls up a chair and sits by her side, watching her try and go back to sleep.

MJ can’t seem to get warm, and she can’t stop shaking, either. Her head pounds incessantly, and her stomach churns uncomfortably. With what, she’s not sure, as she can’t keep any sustenance down at all. She feels on the verge of vomiting almost constantly, and has dry heaved more than a few times.

She opens her eyes and tries to sit up again, movements shaky. She somehow needs to throw up again. What she needs to throw up, she doesn’t know. Steve is at her side, helping her up, bucket in hand. She closes her eyes, willing whatever it was to stay down, willing her stomach to calm down. Steve rubs her back gently, holding the bucket.

She retches, vomiting bile. Right… vomiting on an empty stomach. Steve continues to rub her back, as she hurls again, and then she starts to cough. She suddenly can’t stop coughing, a hollow, throaty cough, her whole body shaking with the force of it. Steve tries to get her to suck on an ice chip again but she can’t stop long enough to put it in her mouth.

MJ can feel panic coming quickly. She can’t stop coughing, and doesn’t feel like she’s going to stop anytime soon. Her chest is so tight it makes it hard to breathe, combined with the incoming panic and her coughing fit and vomiting… she closes her eyes, and tries to take deep breaths, only to be interrupted by coughing and dry heaving.

As Steve rubs her back, he observes her breath getting shorter and shorter, feeling her shake as she tries to keep herself sitting. She looks terrified at her body spiraling out of control like this. He can feel his own anxiety start to rise. He can’t handle this alone.

He uses a free hand to press the call button, while still helping to hold her up as she shakes and coughs. Within seconds, a nurse appears. “She- I don’t know. She can’t stop coughing, she can’t stop vomiting, she can’t sit up, she-“ He blinks rapidly, trying to stave off tears, at a loss for words. MJ looks at him, scared. Hearing him vocalize these symptoms sends her brain into overdrive, and she feels like she might pass out at any minute.

“Alright Mrs. Healy, here’s what we’re going to do.” The nurse helps MJ sit up and adjusts her pillows as Steve continues to rub her back. “We’re going to give you an antiemetic and an anticonvulsant. Hopefully, these will alleviate the symptoms enough to let you get the rest you need. Meanwhile, can you try as hard as you can to take deep breaths for me? In for 4 seconds, hold for 7, out for 8. Can you try that? I know it will be hard.” She speaks calmly and reassuringly; MJ nods, and immediately starts trying what the nurse says. “Can you stay here for a moment, Mr. Healy? I have to get the medication.” He nods as the nurse leaves the room.

MJ has stopped coughing now, but her anxiety is not slowing, she can’t stop shaking. The beeping of the heart monitor is increasing, and Steve glances at it, worry creasing his brow. She looks up at him, panic-stricken, as she shivers. He brushes a sweaty strand of hair out of her eyes with a shaky hand and feels her forehead; she’s still burning.

The nurse reappears with another nurse. “We’ll take care of her. You look like you need some air.” She remarks. Steve nods shakily, placing a gentle kiss on MJ’s forehead before he leaves the room.

He runs outside, breathing deeply. The cool air hits him, and, honestly, it feels good. He doesn’t realize that he’d also been sweating that entire time, so worried and focused on MJ. He takes off his sweater and starts to pace, doing his best to air out his shirt.

His phone buzzes, and he stops, realizing he hadn’t checked his phone for messages from Nick and Frankie in the past few hours. Pulling out his cell, he sees about 50 messages in the “Dad and Kids” group chat, one they’d made only a few days ago so that MJ didn’t have to end up seeing all their worried texts. He answers them, giving them an update, before resuming his pacing.

Steve rubs his face, deep in thought. That entire episode scared him to his very core. He had never seen anyone’s body act like that, completely out of control, and it definitely isn't supposed to be MJ's body that does that. He is still very much getting used to the idea that Mary Jane is capable of making mistakes, someone who needs help. Withdrawal sucks the energy right out of her, but it doesn't stop there. It sucks the energy out of him, too.

He needs help.

He couldn’t do this alone.

He doesn’t know if he could handle this all on his own, between work, the kids and their problems, and MJ.

This is only the beginning. They have the rest of the long road of recovery to go. MJ has him, sure, but who does he have? He’s in no way poised to handle everything that’s going to come.

MJ had pushed away and alienated most of their friends. Steve lived at work, and his law school friends were spread out around the world. MJ had a terrible relationship with her own parents, mom especially, plus they live far away, so he doubts they’d be very helpful to her at the moment.

He sighs deeply, before picking up his phone, dialing.

“Steve? Is everything alright?”

“Mom…” His voice shakes, and he feels tears well up in his eyes.

“Are the kids okay? Frankie? Nick?”

“They’re fine.”

“Okay, good. Are you and MJ okay?”

Steve starts to cry.

“Steve? Honey, can you tell me what’s going on? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m… well… MJ… she overdosed on opioids.” He finally says, taking some calming breaths. His mom is silent.

“Is she okay?” She asks quietly.

“She’s going through withdrawal right now. I need to go back inside to her.” He admits, sighing.

A beat.

“Are you okay?”

Another beat.

Steve lets out a shuddering breath, trying to talk through tears. “Mom… I know you never liked MJ, you thought she was stuck up, too arrogant, too focused on appearances… and yes, you were right.” He takes a deep breath. “But I love her more than anything in the world, and I know you could too. She’s a real person now, who’s hurting so much. She needs help. And well… I do too.”

There’s a long pause, as Steve attempts to stop crying.

“Steve, what would you like me to do?” She asks gently.

“Can you… can you come spend the holidays with the kids and us.” He asks.

“We’ll come tomorrow. And Steve?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“We’re always here to help you. Love you.” She says.

“Love you too, mom.” His voice breaks as he hangs up the phone.

Steve returns to the room, and finds MJ sleeping peacefully, her cheeks a little less flushed, her expression neutral. The cot is set up by her bed. He ignores it and gently pushes MJ over, joining her on her bed. He slings a protective arm across her and kisses her forehead, before finally falling asleep to his wife’s even breathing.


	4. Visiting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie and Nick come to visit their mom for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place 5 days after MJ is first admitted to the hospital. In the timeline that I've worked out, I'm making this be Christmas Eve.

Steve steps outside of the hospital room, closing the door behind him. He answers the phone in a hushed voice, scanning the hallways to see if he’s disturbing anyone. “Hey, how’s it with grandma?”

“Good, we’re eating actual meals now instead of cup noodles and take out.” Nick jokes.

“But literally, grandma’s cooking is unreal. I forgot how amazing it is.” Frankie gushes.

“That’s good. Mom’ll be glad that you guys are eating well.”

“How’s she?” Frankie asks softly.

Steve takes a deep breath. “She’s sleeping right now. Her fever broke last night, finally, and they gave her what they said would be her last antiemetic.”

There’s a beat, before Steve beats them to the punch.

“We’ve gone over this, you can’t come visit.” Steve says, his voice catching slightly.

“Why?” Frankie asks.

“I don’t want you to see your mom like this, and I don’t think she’ll want you to see her like this either.” Steve says, rubbing his face. When Frankie and Nick had come the first night they were in the hospital, MJ had been unconscious. Frankie had cried so uncontrollably that Nick had to escort her outside so she could calm down enough before she could come back in. But now that MJ is conscious, sick, and shaky...

“We really want to see her.” Nick says.

“I miss her.” Frankie’s voice cracks.

“I know.” Steve responds gently.

“I wanna see her!” A beat. “That’s it, I’m coming.”

“Frankie, no-“ Steve starts, before hearing a small scuffle with muffled arguing on the other end of the phone. Then he hears Nick say “Fine, take the phone, you talk to him.”

“Dad, it’s Christmas Eve. I wanna come see my own mom.” Frankie says indignantly.

Steve starts pacing. He and Frankie have this conversation every single call since MJ was hospitalized, but Steve decided that the kids could only visit when MJ gives the okay. But she’d barely been able to say that she herself is okay, let alone give the okay for her kids to come visit. “Frankie, look. We’ve talked about this so many times. I don’t think you can handle-“

“Handle it? Handle it? Dad, it’s MOM. Of course I can handle it.”

“It’s not that-“

“Mom almost DIED. And now you’re saying I can’t handle just seeing her?” Frankie replies angrily, her voice cracking again. He hears her sniff, and hopes it’s just a minor cold and she’s not crying.

“I know.” Steve closes his eyes. The image of MJ lifeless on the floor flashes in his brain again and he winces. The thought of how close he came to losing her comes and goes and it pains him to reminded of it. He takes another breath. “That’s- that’s not what I’m trying to say, Frankie. If you would please- she’s not doing well-”

“I KNOW that. I KNOW I can handle this. I’ve seen all kinds of things. The news is full of it! This is my own MOM-“

“Frankie, I need you to understand. It’s really hard to stomach, even for me. It’s like a complete 180 from what she’s usually like. She’s very sick-“

“I know all this. You’ve been giving us pretty detailed updates on her status.” Frankie bites back.

“I want to protect you. And I’m sure mom would too.” Steve says quietly.

“I’m not a child anymore, Dad.” Frankie sighs. “It’ll all be fine. I just want to come see mom. I haven’t seen her in literal DAYS. I miss her.” Steve doesn’t say anything. “Dad, it’s Christmas.” Frankie says beseechingly.

Steve closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay. You can come later today, alright?”

“Thank you! I’ll see you later.” Frankie says. He hears muffled talking as Frankie hands the phone back to Nick.

“Dad? Is there anything you’d want us to bring?” Nick asks.

“Um, maybe another sweater for your mom. I could use another change of clothes, too.”

“Alright. What time is good?”

“4 or 5pm, I think. See you guys then.” Steve hangs up the phone and rubs his face, thinking. MJ probably misses the kids too, so maybe this would be a good thing for everyone. God, he hopes he made the right decision.

Steve opens the door to the room, and notices MJ is awake and staring listlessly out a window, watching clouds move in the sky. She doesn’t look ready to vomit, a little color has returned to her cheeks, and her forehead isn’t creased in pain. Finally, a serene moment for her. Maybe the worst of it has passed. “Hey, stranger. Merry Christmas Eve.” He says quietly, closing the door behind him and walking over. He leans over and kisses her head gently.

“Hey.”

“How are we feeling this morning?”

“Tired.” She says, closing her eyes.

“You can go back to sleep.” He pushes a strand of her behind her ears tenderly. He presses a hand to her forehead, checking her temperature. Her fever has thankfully managed to stay down.

“I tried. Stomach cramps.” Her voice is hoarse.

“How’s the nausea?”

“Better, I think. I don’t need to vomit right now.”

“Okay, what about drinking some water? Or we can do the ice chips again, if that’s easier.” He grabs a bottle of water with a straw and sits on the bed, holding it out. She stares at him blankly, before relenting and taking a few sips of water gingerly. He gives her a small smile once she does, a hand touching her leg over the blankets affectionately. “Well, I have some good news. An early Christmas present.”

“Oh geez, you didn’t have to.” She says, offering a ghost of a smile.

“Frankie and Nick are coming later today. They miss you.”

MJ closes her eyes. “Are you sure they want to see me like this?” She asks, her voice trembling. “Are you forcing them to come?”

“Not at all. Frankie practically begged me to come.” Steve says, chuckling. MJ bites her lip, eyes still closed. Her skin starts to prickle uncomfortably, whether from her withdrawal symptoms or her own anxiety and stress she’s not sure. “Do you want them to come?” He asks carefully. “I can tell them no.”

“No… I’d like that. Thank you” MJ replies, moving her hand to hold Steve’s and squeeze it lightly.

~

The rest of the day passes without much incident. MJ tries to eat some food, but feels her stomach churn after one bite. Sure enough, she vomits that little bit up a few hours later. But she feels a little bit more like a real person. A shaky, sick person, but a person nonetheless. She starts to feel a little more in control of her own movements, a little more in control of her body.

Steve leaves to go get the kids. MJ’s nervous. Her kids have never seen her sick like this. Even when she got sick, she tried her damndest to hide it from them. They didn’t really pay attention to whether she was sick, anyway, as long as she got food on the table and drove them to their classes and activities. But now… now their attention would be entirely focused on her.

She shivers, whether from cold or nerves, she’s not sure. She feels sicker and sicker the more time they take. She retches into a bucket close to her bed and wipes her mouth with the edge of her blanket, her hands shaking. Her whole body starts to shake, her muscles aching, and she feels a chill run up and down her spine. She closes her eyes, trying to will herself to stop. She can’t. ‘God my fever better not be fucking coming back’ she thinks to herself tiredly.

Frankie and Nick are now outside the room, with Steve. Steve glances through the window, and sees MJ, curled up in a fetal position on her side, facing away from the window, shaking. He bites his lip, a little uneasy. He’s not sure the kids are ready for this. He notices Nick staring too. “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.” He says gently, putting a reassuring hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if I can.” Nick replies, putting his hand on top of his dad’s, squeezing it gently.

“You can watch from out here.” Steve notices Frankie fidgeting with something. He recognizes it as one of Frankie’s favorite stuffed animals from when she was little, Mr. Bun Bun. It’s a white bunny with a heart stitched onto his belly that MJ had given to Frankie the first time she’d gotten sick as an official Healy, something she’d picked up at a toy store on her way home from running errands. From then on, Mr. Bun Bun was little Frankie’s sick companion, with her through chicken pox, strep throat, several flus and bad colds, and even her broken arm after she’d fallen off a swing at school. Steve didn’t even realize she’d clung onto it all these years. “Frankie, sweetie?”

“Hm?” Frankie turns from watching her mom from the window as she plays with Mr. Bun Bun’s ear.

“Are you okay to go in, or do you want to stay here?”

“No I’m not staying out here.” Frankie’s voice trembles. She clears her throat. “I’m coming.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” Steve says gently, opening the door to MJ’s room, leading Frankie in.

MJ hears the door open, and holds her breath, still trying to tell her body to stop shaking. She knows it’s Frankie, and hates that Frankie is seeing her like this. “Mom?” She says softly. The last time Frankie spoke that softly to her was probably when she was 11. Maybe it was to beg for cookies or something, but it’d been a while. Steve stands by the corner of her bed and smooths her messy hair.

Frankie, holding Mr. Bun Bun, approaches her bed cautiously, observing MJ carefully. Her mom— or someone who resembles her mom, she can’t quite register that the woman in the bed _is_ her mom— is holding the covers tightly against her body, shivering, shaking. She looks wan and bleary-eyed, and Frankie notices she seems to have trouble keeping her breathing even and steady. She tries not to look it, but her dad is right. This is scary, seeing her mom like this.

MJ sees Frankie slowly approaching her, looking terrified, ready to bolt at any minute. Her heart sinks; Frankie should never have to see her like this. She keeps trying to will herself to stop, but she only seems to shake more. She notices Frankie holding something, and gasps quietly when she realizes who it is.

“I brought someone for you.” Frankie says in a hushed voice, offering the bunny to her. “Mr. Bun Bun is right here.”

MJ reaches out a shaky hand to take Mr. Bun Bun from her, hugging him close, giving Frankie what Steve thinks is maybe the first genuine smile he’s seen—or rather, half-smile. She notices the toy bunny still smells like Frankie, and his ear is a little worn from where Frankie always held him when she was young.

“Thank you.” MJ whispers, her voice hoarse. “Merry Christmas Eve.” She says, her voice cracking, as she tries to speak a little louder and raise her head a little bit. But her head is oh so heavy, and her body still won’t stop shaking.

“Merry Christmas Eve, mom.” Frankie says, her voice starting to shake. She bites her lip, trying to stop herself from crying. “I miss you.”

MJ’s breath catches. Steve puts a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing her back gently.

“I do too.” MJ replies shakily.

“I…” The words get lost in Frankie’s throat. She wants to hug her mom so badly, but she’s terrified she’ll hurt her or something. Her mom looks… so breakable, so small, so… not her mom, not the Mary Jane Healy she knows. She keeps trying to swallow her tears and control her emotions, but it’s getting harder and harder. “I’m so glad you’re still here. I love you so much.” She whispers, her voice cracking, before turning and bolting out of the room.

At Frankie leaving so abruptly, MJ starts to shake more. Steve looks at Nick, who runs after her. MJ’s forehead is creased with worry, and Steve can hear the heart rate monitor beeping more frantically. “Mary Jane-” He starts to say, coming around to her side, crouching down so he’s eye level with her, taking her hands in his. “Look at me.” MJ can’t meet his eyes, her panic is coming so fast.

The full impact of _everything_ that had transpired, from the accident to the overdose, is crashing down on her. What had she done? What had her life become? Every little insecurity starts to rear its ugly head. No kid is supposed to ever see their mom look like this. No person is ever supposed to see someone else look like this.

Steve can see the wheels spinning in her head, watching her thoughts spiral downhill as he looks at her face draining of all color. “Mary Jane-”

“Can you make sure Frankie is okay.”

“Nick is with her.”

“But you need to make sure Frankie is okay.” MJ persists, in between shallow breaths.

  
“Mary Jane, you need to put you first right now. Can you look at me?”

“Is Frankie okay?”

“Mary Jane, sweetheart, can you please take deep breaths with me? Look at me.“ Her breathing is getting so short Steve is worried all over again. Her eyes are wide, but this time instead of abject terror, he can also see a deep shame in them. MJ tries to focus, but she can’t. “Okay, Mary Jane, remember what the nurse said, when it gets like this? Focus on the clock, look at how the second hand ticks.”

MJ is vaguely aware of how exhausted her body feels all of a sudden, as she starts to try to keep her mind focused on the ticking of the clock. After a minute or two, Steve can feel her start to calm down, as she concentrates on the second hand ticking inside the clock. As her breathing finally slows, so does her shaking. Steve moves to sit on the bed, and embraces MJ tightly, rubbing circles on her back, soothing her. He feels Mr. Bun Bun sandwiched between them, and he realizes MJ does too.

“Can you check on Frankie?”

“You’ll be okay here, by yourself?”

“Yes, I’m okay right now. Can you please check on Frankie? Please tell her I’m sorry.” MJ begs.

Steve shakes his head, smiling slightly to himself as he pushes her hair back affectionately. “You have nothing to apologize for but if it makes you feel better… I will.”

~

Frankie walks down the hallway, holding her shoulders, trying to will her breathing to slow down. She can hear Nick calling after her, but she needs to get outside, into the air. Walking out the sliding doors and into the cold, she finally manages to take a deep albeit very shaky breath. Her mind is whirring and won’t stop running through the possible scenario that is hanging in the air: the fact that her mom very well could have died. She thought she’d processed it, that it’d be okay, but she has not processed it at all.

Nick comes out soon after her. “Are you okay?”

“I just need some air.” Frankie says, her breathing starting to speed up again. She paces rapidly back and forth.

“I can stay with you.” Nick shivers in the cold.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Go back in.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m not. I’m NOT fine, because mom almost DIED. There’s an alternate universe where she’s NOT be here, dad didn’t get to her on time, she took too many pills, they gave her the wrong medicine, didn’t recognize an overdose... She could be GONE.” Frankie finally says, practically screaming into the parking lot. Tears start pouring out in earnest, now, and she sits on a curb, head in her hands. Nick sits down next to her, also starting to cry, but doing that weird guy thing where he pretends he’s not. There’s a long silence, save for the sound of the wind and Frankie crying.

“I know.” Nick says. He would try and comfort her, but Frankie had been… very distant and wary of him ever since the whole thing with Bella came out. “But… she’s here. She’s not gone, right?”

“Didn’t you see her in there? Ha, you didn’t even want to go in. You didn’t see and hear what she’s like. I’m looking at her, I know it’s mom, but it’s not. Like all the things that used to make mom, that wasn’t it in that bed there. She looks like her, but she’s so… fragile. She’s... not there. It doesn’t feel like her. It felt so weird. And scary. And I… can’t handle it. That’s just… it’s not… supposed to happen like that. And like, maybe I- because I ran away, I made her- I just-” Frankie stammers angrily, wiping tears from her face. She stands up and starts to kick a rock around, tears still falling.

Steve comes out in the middle of her tirade, his heart breaking at seeing Frankie yell at empty space like that. He keeps his distance for a beat, watching his daughter. Upon seeing her dad, she runs and hugs him tightly, tighter than he can ever remember. He rubs her back. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“You were right, I’m sorry, you were right. I shouldn’t have come.” Frankie says against his chest, in between muffled sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Frankie.” Steve says gently. “And it’s not your fault at all.” Frankie cries harder.

The thought of losing her mom scares her way more than she’d ever care to admit. And seeing her mom like that… shakes her to her very core. Her mom is super mom, super MJ, the one that all the other moms are jealous of. She is always there, always cooking something, always nagging her to do something. But while the past few mom-free days were days she’d have claimed she needed before MJ’s overdose, she realized just how much she is used to MJ’s near-constant presence at home. And how much she needed MJ to help her feel safe and warm. MJ is just such an integral part of what home means to her, and the thought of that ever being taken away… And she can’t help but think that maybe she… She can’t even bring herself to think those thoughts through completely.

“I think it’s probably good if you guys go home now.” Steve says to Nick, as he feels Frankie start to calm down. She looks up, and sees Nick had been crying too. She reaches out a hand to him and he takes it, squeezing it. “I’ll keep you guys updated, okay?” Steve gives them each a hug goodbye, before leaning in to Frankie. “Oh, and your mom... wanted me to say sorry.”

“What on earth for?” Frankie asks, surprised.

“That’s your mom for you, always thinking of others.” Steve says, a wry smile on his face. He pauses, thinking carefully before continuing. “Frankie… She’s all there. She’s just… more human now.” He says quietly, holding her cheek affectionately. “With help, from everyone here, from the rehab center, from us… She’ll come back.”

“Okay. Good. I need her back.” Frankie says. “Never tell her I said that though.”

~

Steve returns to MJ’s room just as MJ hurls into the bucket again. He rushes over to her, rubbing her back and holding her hair. “Is Frankie-“ MJ is interrupted by dry-heaving.

“She’s fine. She’s gone back home with Nick.” Steve reassures her, helping her lay back down and handing her a tissue to wipe her mouth. “Don’t worry, I did tell her you said sorry.”

“Steve… I-“

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.” She says again, her voice still hoarse.

“You keep apologizing-“

“I’m sorry for putting our entire family in this situation.” She says quietly, playing with the fabric of her blanket. She doesn’t want to look up at him. “I’m sorry I’m like this. I’m sorry I let it get this bad.” She starts to cry again. It always strikes him, how quietly she cries. As if she’s conditioned herself to cry this way.

Steve nudges her to scoot over so he can sit on the bed as well, wrapping a protective arm around her. He can feel her resist his affection, before giving in- due to being too weak, or just accepting that he isn’t leaving her side. “You can keep apologizing and I’ll keep telling you you don’t need to.” Steve says softly, rubbing her arm and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead as she cries into him. “20 years ago I said I would love and cherish you for better or worse. And now we’re getting better."


	5. On Her Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ transitions from the hospital to the Keystone Center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I did my best to do some research on different rehab centers, their rules, and what the first day might look like. I might have twisted some for the purposes of some plot lines, though :) This chapter is somewhat of a transitional chapter. (It was definitely the hardest one to write so far...)

MJ swings her legs around the side of her hospital bed, wincing as her back stings a little bit. The sun is just beginning to rise, and the soft morning light is filling the room. Steve, on the bed next to her, thankfully doesn’t stir. He’s finally sleeping. She stands carefully, holding onto the side of the bed tightly, testing her legs. The past few times, she’d barely made it to the bathroom by herself without falling, and needed assistance every time. But today feels a little better.

Using the wall as support, MJ slowly makes her way over to the door. The metal doorknob feels cold against her hand, and she shivers a little. Her fever has pretty much disappeared, but she still feels chilly. It is December, after all.

She carefully opens the door and staggers over to the toilet. As she sits without falling, she closes her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. Fucking finally, she is strong enough to do THIS by herself.

The first time she had to go to the bathroom, she couldn’t even make it off the bed without falling. The nurse had to help her over to the bathroom, basically carrying her, and had to help her pull her pants down and… She shudders.

The second time she had to go, Steve was the only one in the room. She tried to walk by herself again but lost her balance because her head kept pounding incessantly and the room had spun ominously. She didn’t fall, thanks to Steve catching her just in time, but Steve had to help her go to the bathroom again. Pants down and all. Not that it was anything he hadn’t seen before, she’d gone to the bathroom while he was brushing his teeth or getting ready hundreds of times. But… the physical act of going to the bathroom was usually an independent activity. It’s mortifying, needing people to help you go pee. It involves a strange kind of intimacy that MJ had spent years pushing away, a trust that MJ doesn’t usually have. 

In fact, these past few days had been a radical exercise in intimacy and trust. Especially with Steve.

MJ stands cautiously, grimacing as her leg shakes a little bit and her back stings. She flushes the toilet and washes her hands, wincing at the cold water. 

Steve is just waking up as MJ emerges from the bathroom, her brow furrowed in concentration as she slowly makes her way back over to the bed. He stays quiet, watching her, trying not to scare her lest she fall. 

The two of them both exhale when she makes it safely onto the bed, MJ smiling weakly at him. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He wraps her in an embrace, kissing the top of her head. 

“Some Christmas, huh.” She says sarcastically. 

“There’s more time for better ones.” Steve rubs her shoulder reassuringly. “But the holiday season is not completely over.” She can see a hint of a twinkle in his eye. What IS that man up to? She rests against her pillows, closing her eyes. She can feel Steve getting up and stretching next to her.

A moment of silence as Steve bites his lip, contemplating how best to ask his next question. He asks every morning, and he knows her answer each time. But the doctor told him last night she had to eat somewhat regularly again, especially if she was going to be alone at the center. He takes a breath. “So… How do you feel about eating something?”

“Truthfully? Absolutely disgusted.” MJ groans. The thought of food makes her stomach churn uncomfortably. But she will have to eat something at some point; her stomach had basically been empty for about four days. But her throat is on fire and her stomach muscles are sore from the incessant vomiting.

“Maybe… maybe, as a Christmas present to me, you can try and eat something.” Steve says hopefully. She rubs her face, sighing deeply, before nodding. Logic won out this round. As if on cue, a nurse walks in with a plate of food, handing it to him.

MJ eyes the tray warily. She hates oatmeal, but she gets up anyway, pushing herself up so she’s sitting on the side of the bed. Steve sits on the bed, tray in hand, and holds up a small spoonful of food to her. She eats it cautiously, trying her best not to spit it out instinctively. Throat burning, she swallows. She stares at him when she finishes her bite, clearly pained, trying to smile. At least she doesn’t feel like she’s going to throw up, though. That’s a first.

Steve looks at her encouragingly, his expression softening. She can almost hear the words “good job” but he doesn’t say anything. MJ feels completely ridiculous. This is it, this is what her life has come to. Here’s Steve, genuinely pleased and happy that she ate one bite of oatmeal without vomiting. But so is she.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. MJ sleeps for most of it, but instead of being fitful and restless, it feels genuinely serene. She FaceTimes Frankie and Nick for a half hour, watching them open their Christmas presents and chatter excitedly, before her head started to hurt. She manages to eat a few more bites of food, much to her and Steve’s excitement, and doesn’t throw up the rest of the day. She goes to the bathroom by herself a few times, and walks around the room without falling too. 

As she goes to sleep that evening, Steve’s arms wrapped around her, a fleeting moment of hope passes through her brain. A part of her feels maybe she can be a real person again.

And tomorrow, she thinks to herself, snuggling into Steve’s embrace, she’ll be moving on to the next phase of her recovery at the Keystone Center. Progress is happening.

~

MJ fidgets in her seat in the car, staring straight ahead. Nick had gone to the rally with Frankie, while Steve drops MJ off at Keystone.

“In about 3 miles, your destination will be on the right.” The GPS says into the silence.

MJ takes a deep breath. She can feel the beginnings of separation anxiety start to kick in in her stomach, something she’d never experienced before. It’s a little weird—she went from being fiercely independent and refusing all help to suddenly being cared for 24/7, by her Steve nonetheless. She realizes just how much she needs and wants him around, especially now.

Steve slows the car down, sensing MJ’s nervousness. He extends a hand over to MJ, who takes it gratefully. He squeezes hers gently, offering her a reassuring smile.

In truth, he’s absolutely terrified at the mere thought of leaving her alone for a few hours, let alone 90 days. That’s why he never left the hospital; he could keep an eye on her, make sure everything is okay, make sure she’s safe and protected. Not that he didn’t trust Keystone. Of course he does.

“In about 1.5 miles, your destination will be on the right.” Steve suddenly pulls over and stops.

“Steve? Is everything okay?” MJ asks, startled out of her anxious silence.

“I just need to make sure you have this.” Steve reaches into the backseat of the car and rummages through his bag before producing a phone. He slips it into her hands. “For you.” He whispers.

“But I’m not even allowed a phone.”

“For good reason. But it’s just in case you need to contact me, or you want to talk to the kids outside of phone hours. For emergencies. You know how you said you were monitoring my internet and phone use?” Steve says in a low voice.

MJ turns red, blushing, ashamed. “Yes…” She says hesitantly.

“Well I had Nick and Frankie help me do the same with yours. So I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh…” Steve can sense she’s a little bit annoyed at being monitored.

“MJ, you were texting your drug dealer, and god knows who else for this.” MJ turns another shade of red and nods, conceding. She takes the phone and reaches into the back seat for her bag. Together, Steve and MJ conceal it in a barely visible compartment next to her underwear and socks.

Steve continues to drive. They sit in silence again, but Steve swears he can hear MJ’s heart thumping loudly, anxiously, the closer to the center they get. As they pull into the parking lot, out of the corner of his eye he can see the color slowly leave MJ’s face as panic settles in.

He parks the car and turns it off. The only thing they can hear now is MJ’s rapid breathing. He turns to face her; she’s staring straight ahead. Steve reaches a hand over to her again, waiting for her to take it, which she does. “Mary Jane, sweetheart, can you look at me?”

MJ turns to look at him, fear clearly in her eyes. Good, he thinks to himself. She’s not so far gone in her panic that she can’t focus.

“You’ll be okay.” He says steadily. He leans over to give her a hug, which she accepts timidly. Before long, she’s gripping him tightly, shaking, but her breathing begins to slow as he rubs circles on her back. That is always something that manages to calm her down.

Steve is not sure how long they hold each other for, but they finally break apart, MJ looking completely winded and exhausted from her relatively minor panic attack. He pushes her hair back behind her ears, and kisses her head gently as she closes her eyes, reveling in the feeling. “Are you ready?” He asks after a beat.

“As I’ll ever be.” She replies shakily.

They exit the car and Steve slings her bags over his shoulders, wrapping a protective arm around MJ as they slowly walk towards the doors.

“Welcome to the Keystone Center, Mrs. Healy! We’ll take it from here, Mr. Healy.” A staff member (Meg, her name tag reads) greets her at the entrance. Steve hands MJ’s bags over to Meg. There’s an awkward silence before Meg turns, recognizing that the couple wants a private parting moment.

MJ hugs Steve tightly, breathing in his scent. She’s going to miss him. Badly. He runs his fingers through her hair affectionately, pressing his lips against her forehead again. They stand like that for a long time, until Meg clears her throat, signaling it’s time to go.

“Promise me you’ll eat.” Steve says quietly.

“I-“

“Three bites. At LEAST three bites.” He begs. She lost so much weight in the past few days, having not eaten more than one or two bites a day, if she even ate. 

“Okay.” She nods, hugging him tighter.

They break apart, and MJ can feel words get stuck in her throat. She manages to choke out a good bye and follows Meg inside, as Steve watches her leave.

~

“Oh… my god.” MJ says breathlessly as she enters her room at Keystone, at a loss for words.

It’s been decorated. Clearly, her family has been there. Maybe a little too much, too tacky, but it’s endearing. Tinsel and paper chains are strung around, cut out snowflakes dangle from the ceiling, and a small Christmas tree with some of her favorite ornaments sits in the corner (plucked off their tree so there are definitely some empty spots on the tree at home but that’s fine, she can let that pass). A few of her favorite family photos sit on the dresser, and another of her and Steve on her bedside table.

“Is this… allowed?” She asks timidly. Keystone has a lot of rules, and many prohibited items.

“Mr. Healy begged us to let the kids come in and decorate, since apparently you love Christmas?” Meg looks at her, a small smile playing at her lips. “And we still have some Christmas spirit.” 

“I do…” She says quietly, taking it all in. Her wonderful kids had done this. For her. She truly does not deserve her own family.

“Mrs. Healy-“

“Please, call me MJ.” She interrupts.

“Okay. MJ, dinner will be in about two hours, but until then you can relax and unpack and get settled. We will come get you, or, if you want, we can bring it to your room a little earlier, if need be. I know the first day at the center is really rough, so I understand if you don’t want to eat with everyone or you want to just get to bed early” Meg says gently.

“Yeah… I think I will eat here.” MJ replies carefully. “I’m… exhausted.” She concedes to Meg, her voice a little shaky.

“Understood. I’ll have them bring it shortly, then. Remember the schedule we went over for tomorrow; we’ll be around to wake you up for breakfast around 7. Have a good evening, MJ.” Meg closes the door.

Mj stands in the middle of her room, her fingers twitching, uncertain of what to do first. Her bag is sitting on the ground by the bed, yet to be unpacked. She feels a little dizzy, and quite exhausted. But not like she’s about to throw up, thank god that seems over. Her throat is still scratchy and swallowing still hurts, but even earlier today, she could stomach a little bit more breakfast than before.

She sits on the bed, feeling the blanket. It’s not as soft as her bed at home is, but it is definitely an improvement from the hospital bed. She stares at the photo of her and Steve on the bedside table, running a finger along the edge. She misses him already, and it’d only been a few hours since he’d left.

She shakes her head, trying to focus on the task at hand. Settling in. What to do first. Unpack. Yes.

She reaches down and unzips the bag, rummaging around before she finds the phone Steve gave her. MJ thinks back to earlier when Meg and someone else were checking her belongings. She’s not sure if they felt the phone or not, but regardless, they did not confiscate it. She had held her breath the entire time, nervous that she would be called out. She tucks the phone under her pillow.

About halfway through her slow yet methodical unpacking, there’s a knock on the door. A tray of food is delivered, and she pokes at it listlessly, before remembering her promise to eat at least three bites. She eats them cautiously, testing out the strength of her stomach, before eating a bonus fourth bite, realizing maybe she is a little bit hungry.

After her meal of four bites, she resumes her unpacking, feeling herself getting more and more tired. But she has to finish, this is where she will be for the next 90 days so she might as well make it as homey as she can.

Her body screams at her to stop moving as she puts the last of her clothes away. This is the most she’s moved in a while, but she is forcing herself to keep going. She trudges wearily to the bathroom, dragging her feet, to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. She stares at herself in the mirror.

MJ can see dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were a little hollow. She’s pale, but not as pale as she knows she had been a few days ago. She closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath. This morning, Steve had brushed his teeth with her in the hospital bathroom. For a brief moment, she relives it, brushing her own teeth, pretending he’s standing next to her, humming his dumb toothbrush song. It’s really ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ by Cyndi Lauper but he had seen it on Sesame Street one random day as ‘Kids Just Love to Brush’ and it stuck.

She makes her way back over to the bed and switches the light off. She lays in the dark, staring at the ceiling. She can already feel sleep begin to wash over her.

Today had been impossibly long.

From the morning at the hospital, to the goodbyes at the hospital, to the drive home to pack her things, to the drive in to the center. To the intake process, the hours with the counselor, the exhaustive questioning to get her treatment plan just right. To the physical assessment, to the check-in, and finally to where she is now. Alone, in her room. For the first time in days, she is on her own.

She can feel the low hum of separation anxiety come back, but is honestly just way too tired to even panic about it. Just as she is about to drift off to sleep, her hidden phone buzzes under her pillow. She pulls it out, and sees a message from Steve. She smiles slightly.

“Sleep tight, and I’ll see you soon. Remember, I’m ALWAYS here for you. Love you. 😘”

Right. She's not on her own.


	6. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ has her first therapy session at the Keystone Center and begins to come to terms with her own assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG TW for descriptions of MJ's recollection of her sexual assault—I decided that MJ remembers more than she ever lets on. It was very difficult writing this, and I wanted to get this delicate topic as right as I could. If you have any concerns or comments PLEASE let me know, I would be more than happy to take them into account and edit this! 
> 
> Also, I maybe did bend the rules a little bit for some cute MJ/Steve stuff at the end. :)

“MJ?”

MJ is exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally… All of the above. Every part of her is tired. 

“I... need a moment.” MJ rubs her face, closing her eyes.

“That’s okay. Take all the time you need.” Her therapist, Lily, sits across from her, pouring some water. “Here.” Lily hands her the glass, which she takes automatically.

It’s only her second day at the center, halfway through her afternoon session, and there is nothing more she wants to do than to leave.

The morning was fine. She got up, brushed her teeth and went to the bathroom, and got dressed with no incident, no falling, just a little shakiness. She had breakfast with everyone else but didn’t talk to anyone (she managed to pass it off as second day jitters and also the fact that she hadn’t had coffee yet). Then, in her morning group session, they went over “The 12-Step Program,” and she listened while other people talked about their issue, not contributing much. Honestly speaking, she tuned out most of it, which she recognizes is probably not the best thing to do for the duration of her stay, but actually listening felt a little too difficult. She kept her mind mostly blank, not wanting to think of anything at all. Lunch came and went, and she talked to a few people at her table about her family and her kids, but mostly she pushed around her food after eating her three bites.

Then came the afternoon session. It was a one on one session with Lily, her center-assigned therapist, a young woman perhaps in her late 20s or early 30s. It started off innocently and awkwardly enough, with Lily asking questions about her life and her family, and she gave mostly one-word answers. Then Lily asked about why she started taking oxycodone. And, after much prodding, MJ told her about the accident, her growing distance with Nick, Frankie, and Steve, and how her stress with them maybe contributed to her becoming addicted. And that was already difficult to articulate. She knows what’s coming next. MJ takes a deep breath.

“Are you ready to continue?” MJ sighs and nods. “Okay. So aside from your family and the build up of stress there, was there anything else that might have contributed to you overdosing?”

MJ pauses before answering. “A girl in town that Nick is friends with, her name is Bella. She, um, got... um...” She takes a shuddering breath, before almost whispering. “-sexually assaulted.”

Lily nods, silent. MJ starts to fidget with the hem of her shirt. There’s a long pause.

“It seems like... there’s more on your mind about it.” Lily presses gently.

“It just…” MJ pauses again, not really wanting to vocalize her thoughts. No, you’re supposed to be getting help, she chastises herself. She closes her eyes for a moment, before pushing herself to continue. “Bella got drunk and someone took advantage of her. It reminded me a little bit of something that happened when I was in college. Not as big of a deal, nothing major. It was just… on my mind.”

A silence hangs in the air as Lily waits to see if MJ has anything else to say, before: “Did this… happen to you?”

MJ starts to get a little defensive. “It was all my fault, really. I got too drunk, and I couldn’t think clearly. I put myself in that position, I was stupid.”

Lily shifts in her seat. MJ isn’t looking at her—she’s staring at the ground, but her hands are twitching and Lily can see a glassy sort of haze fall over her eyes. There’s a prolonged silence, and she can feel Lily staring at her.

When MJ clearly isn’t going to say anything, Lily pushes her gently again. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

MJ closes her eyes, her hands shaking. She had pushed the memory down, deep deep deep down, but over the past few days, the minute she learned what happened to Bella, it had all come rushing back. 

“I… was at a frat party with some friends. And this... boy I hung out with during orientation week kept smiling and waving at me… I kind of had a crush on him, even before the party… so I went over to him. I had a lot of wine already, but he gave me more drinks, which also felt nice. You know, feeling... desired. So I drank them- which was stupid, because I don’t know what was in them, or what they were. And then he kissed me, and I guess I sort of enjoyed it, because it felt new and exciting, and I liked him…” MJ’s voice trails off as she steadily avoids Lily’s gaze. This is the most she has ever told ANYONE of what happened that one night in April. It’s been 25 years.

She clears her throat, but her voice still comes out hoarse and shaky. She can picture it clearly in her brain as she recounts more. “I could barely walk, and my vision was blurring, but I let him take me upstairs to his room.” She feels tears stinging at her eyes and wipes them away angrily, determined not to cry. She feels as though some sort of weight is digging into her chest, sitting there, unmoving, making it hard for her to even get words out. 

A silence hangs in the air again as MJ gathers herself. Lily can fill in the blanks for what happened next, but she waits patiently for MJ to continue.

MJ takes another shaky breath, and her words come out in a breathy whisper that Lily has to strain to hear. “He got me into his bed and he got on top of me. I think asked him to stop, but I don’t know. I don’t remember. I wanted him to stop. I just… know that he didn’t. And I was so scared.”

Her entire body is shaking now and a few tears slip down her cheeks. Lily nudges a box of tissues towards her. “If you’d like.” She says softly. She waits for MJ to catch her breath.

MJ looks back up at Lily. She can’t read Lily’s expression, and starts to backtrack and self-deprecate. “But I was stupid, right? I set myself up for that. It’s my fault. I was so flattered by his attention and I took the drinks from him and I was the one who let him take me up to his room and-“ Her voice trails off again and she stares back at the wood grain on the floor. The pattern is pretty- something she’d like for her own home. Maybe she’ll talk to Steve about it.

MJ takes another breath and wipes her face with her sleeve, looking back up at Lily, something resembling a smile forced on her face. “It’s fine. I powered through and I got over it and moved on. It was just... on my mind.” MJ’s voice is suddenly small and unsteady again.

“MJ, you shouldn’t downplay what happened to you.” Lily says gently. “I know this is probably really hard to hear, but… that was rape-”

“I mean, yeah it absolutely sucked, but it I don’t know about THAT.” MJ interjects, clearing her throat and speaking quickly, dismissively. “It really wasn’t a big deal. I accepted my mistake and stayed strong and…” The words get caught in her throat and she stops talking, staring blankly at the ground. She sits up, stiffly, but her fingers twitch uncontrollably, playing with the hem of her shirt. Lily’s words sit uncomfortably in her stomach, and she is resistant to internalize them. 

Lily leans forward, speaking softly yet firmly. “MJ, I can only imagine how difficult it was to deal with that all on your own. I am so sorry you went through that.” Lily takes a breath and sets her clipboard down, trying to look at MJ, who is avoiding her gaze. “But this is something that should have been taken seriously, and that we need to take seriously now.”

MJ is quiet. The words keep echoing in her head. Surely she’s making a mountain out of a molehill, bringing this up in a session, when she’s over it, she got through it, she’s finished with it. But this… memory kept nagging at the back of her mind, starting with when Frankie and Nick started fighting and yelling about it, and especially when Nick told her what happened. Maybe what happened to her is… she can’t even think the word. But when she’d had her conversation with Nick, all she could picture is herself. In Bella’s shoes, tracing Bella’s exact path.

A sudden calm overtakes her, and she looks back up at Lily, serene, breathing even. She can’t explain it, but everything makes sense. Her feelings feel justified. Her hands stop twitching and she folds them neatly in her lap, sitting up, posture strangely perfect. “Thank you.” She says. “I thought I was making a big deal out of nothing and it’s nice to feel like I wasn’t. Am not.” 

“MJ, this would be serious and upsetting. For anyone to hear and internalize.” Lily says, making her expression unreadable. In truth, she’s worried about MJ reacting this way, this weird kind of calm. But the session is coming to an end, and she has another person to see. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” MJ says smoothly. And she does feel fine.

“I do have to see someone else, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know it’s your second day here, but have you made any friends yet?”

MJ sort of laughs. “No. I don’t really make friends very easily. I’m not very… liked.” She says dryly. 

“Okay, well… anyone you might feel comfortable sitting with?”

MJ shakes her head. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

Lily takes a breath. “We don’t often do this on the second day, but I can make an allowance for Steve to come visit tonight. He can’t stay overnight, but he can come for the evening.” 

MJ’s chest suddenly gets tight, and her mind whirs into overdrive. Steve. Steve cannot know. Lily watches as MJ goes from serenity, to horror, to panic. “Steve cannot know.”

“MJ, it’s okay. Can you breathe for me?” 

“You cannot tell Steve.” MJ says, her voice low, her breathing speeding up.

“MJ, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Please don’t tell Steve.”

“I promise I won’t. We will not tell anyone anything until you are absolutely ready.” Lily nods.

“Okay.” MJ takes a deep breath, calming herself. She SHOULD trust Lily; after all, Lily’s supposed to be on her side. But a small, nagging part of her is terrified Lily’s going to tell Steve something she’s not ready for him to know.

“Well, MJ. I’d say we made a lot of progress today. You can go back to your room if you’d like, or you can walk around—totally up to you.”  
MJ nods, standing, her legs a little shaky. “I think I’ll go back to my room.”“Sure. I’ll call Steve and let the staff know. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Lily says, her expression softening into a smile. MJ gives her a small, strained smile back.

~

As soon as Steve got the call from Lily-the-therapist, he dropped everything (honestly, he’d just been watching TV with Nick and Frankie) and immediately drove over to Keystone. He hadn’t heard from MJ since he’d dropped her off, which, truthfully, did make him a little nervous; that was, after all, the point of sneaking in the phone. But it didn’t seem like a good sign at all that he’d been called on her second day. Meg greets him at the door and leads him through the center to MJ’s room, where he finds MJ, sitting stiffly on her bed, staring at the floor. 

Her hands won’t stop twitching, and she is playing with the hem of her shirt again, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. Steve rushes to her side and bends down next to the bed, so she can see him. She shrinks a little from him, her heart beating a little faster, breathing a little shorter. It’s Steve, you stupid idiot. He won’t hurt you. But all the same, when he instinctively places a comforting hand on her leg and she all but jumps out of her skin, recoiling. There is nothing more she wants than for him to wrap her up in his arms and hold her like he had so many times in the hospital and before, but the idea of ANYONE touching her at the moment makes her feel nauseous.

Steve doesn’t try again, recognizing that she doesn’t want to be touched, but his heart breaks for her. He can tell she’s antsy, uncomfortable, anxious, something is visibly bothering her. Lily didn’t tell him much, just that she shouldn’t be alone and needed someone to keep her company for a little bit. He’s a bit at a loss of what to do. “Mary Jane, may I sit on the bed next to you?” Steve asks, after a short, tense silence passes. MJ nods, just barely. Steve takes a seat on the bed close to her, but not touching her.

MJ feels as though something is crawling on her skin. Lily’s words had been sitting with her, and she’d turned them over and over in her head for the past 45 minutes since she left Lily’s room. She knows her hands are shaking, and her chest hurts. She’d been trying to practice breathing deeply since she left Lily’s room, trying to keep her mind empty and thoughts from spiraling, but she couldn’t. And seeing Steve, and Steve touching her leg… set her off completely. Every touch feels like a violation, and she feels… dirty. Even though she literally did nothing except cry and talk and stare into space today. Suddenly, she looks at Steve, terrified. He must know. He stopped touching her leg immediately.

“What did Lily tell you?” She asks, panicked, her voice high-pitched with worry.

“Just that you needed someone to keep you company.” He says quietly, calmly. He wants to hug her so badly.

“That’s it? Nothing else?” She asks again. “Tell me what she told you.” She demands.

“Really. Just that you needed someone to keep you company, because she didn’t want you to be alone.” Steve says seriously, trying to convey to her that is truly all he knows.

“Okay.” MJ lets out a shuddering breath, but the knot in her stomach doesn’t unravel. It stays there, twisting more and more. She can feel her muscles start to seize up, and nausea attack her again. Are these remnants of withdrawal symptoms, or anxiety… she doesn’t know. Her brain gets hazy, and she has trouble getting air into her lungs. She had been… she can’t even think the word.

Steve glances at MJ. She’s pale, stiff, shaky. Clearly something major is on her mind, bugging her, making her uncomfortable, enough to worry Lily and have her call him. Before she’d just been sick, but this is something new, something that he can’t remember seeing before in her. She looks scared, but a different kind of scared than what he’d seen in the hospital; that had been a loss of control scared, this is… something hollow in her eyes. As if something is suddenly occurring to her that she didn’t know before, sinking its teeth in and not letting go. “Is there something you want to tell me?” He asks gently.

“No.” She says hurriedly. She closes her eyes, chastising herself for her response. No, she’s not supposed to say no like that. She balls her hands into fists tightly, before releasing them with a long breath. “I mean… not right now.” She says quietly, her hands still shaking.

They sit in silence for a few more moments, as MJ slowly works through her own anxiety. She tries to empty her mind of her thoughts; it really isn’t helping, spiraling like this, productive for nobody. Least of all, herself. Steve is here, for her. Lily is right; she shouldn’t be alone, she needs to be with someone who makes her feel safe. And no one made her feel more safe than her own family, especially Steve during these past few days. Her usual logical brain wins out this round. 

As her breathing slows and she manages to sort of push away her spiraling (for now), MJ reaches a hand out to him, and grips his hand tightly. Steve is surprised by how strong she is holding onto him. “Steve-“ She says, her voice a whisper. She glances up at him, a few tears in her eyes, suddenly aware of how tense and exhausted she is, and how she wants to just… collapse into him. “Can… can you- can we-“ She’s not used to asking for what she wants, gesturing weakly to him.

Steve wordlessly opens his arms and she crawls into his embrace. He can feel her clutching onto him tightly, worlds different from the MJ he’d seen a few moments earlier, who flinched at the very sight of him. They sit there for a long time as he just holds her and she clings to him for dear life, pressing herself into his warmth, as he rubs her back and runs his fingers through her hair.

~

“Please stay tonight.” MJ says quietly. They’re both seated at the table in her room, finishing their dinner. Steve had been given permission to only stay through dinner.

“MJ, I’m not supposed to…” Steve wants to, though. He wants to make sure MJ is okay, and while he does trust Keystone, it would really make HIM feel better to be there firsthand to make sure MJ is okay.

“I’ve been eating more than the three bites I promised you, look-” MJ shoves two more bites into her mouth. “Please…” MJ begs, mouth full. She swallows her food, wincing at how rough her throat still feels. “I… miss sleeping with you next to me. It’s lonely.”

Steve sighs. “Okay...” He glances around the room. “I need to find a hiding place, I guess.”

“What will I say?” MJ suddenly looks worried.

“MJ, this is your idea!” Steve says, half laughing, before thinking. “Hm… maybe you can just say I left already when they ask.”

“That’s gonna work?”

“We never know till we try. Meanwhile… I can hide under the bed.”

There’s a knock at the door. MJ stares at Steve, wide-eyed. Already? 

Steve quickly crawls under the bed, and MJ pulls the covers down a little bit, making sure he’s hidden. Her door opens. One of the night staff members (Jessica, her name tag reads; MJ is starting to learn everyone’s names) pokes her head in. “I’m sorry, MJ, but your husband has to leave now.” 

“He already left. He had to go home to the kids.” MJ says quickly, maybe too quickly. She can’t tell if Jessica notices. Damn all the people in this center, she can’t read any of their facial expressions.

“Oh, okay.” Jessica says, a little confused. “And you’re-“

“Yeah, we finished dinner. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow!” MJ says, more cheerily than she’s ever been. Jessica nods, taking the trays from the table.

“See you tomorrow, yeah.” Jessica says, a little bewildered. She’d heard that MJ had been in quite a state all day, so this attitude puzzled her a bit. Her suspicions a little raised, she leaves the room.

“I thought you said you were good at hiding.” Steve says, as he crawls out from under the bed. “That was terrible.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m definitely better than you.” MJ giggles, wrapping her arms around him, breathing in his scent. It feels so good to be with Steve again. He hugs her back, placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

He sends off a quick text to the kids, letting them know he’s staying over (leaving out the part about it being against the rules), and they get ready for bed together. They brush their teeth together again, Steve using his finger since he didn’t bring his toothbrush, humming his dumb Cyndi Lauper brushing song again. It’s a comical sight, and makes MJ giggle again.

They lie together in the dark, spooning under the covers, Steve’s arms wrapped protectively around MJ. She snuggles into his chest, reveling in the feel of his warm body against her back. “These sheets are awful.” Steve mutters.

“They’re not as bad as the hospital ones.” She replies sleepily, burrowing further into him. He smiles, holding her closer.

“Okay, you have a point there.” Steve makes a mental note to bring her better sheets when he visits next. 

He can feel her breathing get slower as she drifts off to serene, comfortable sleep. He lies awake a few moments longer, parsing back through what happened that evening. Lily didn’t want MJ to be alone. And, it seemed, after a while, neither did MJ. He recalls her panic and anxiety when she grilled him about what Lily had said to him, clearly something bothering her. The fear that was in her eyes haunts him; what, or WHO, the hell had scared MJ like that? He can feel anger rear up inside him for a brief moment, before slowing himself down again; getting angry now will help no one.

His heart starts to beat a little faster as he hears people walking outside her room. He truly doesn’t know what possessed him to break the rules like this, but he is a little nervous at what might happen, what the consequences might be. Would he be allowed to visit again? It is only her second day, after all, and this had been a special allowance from Lily... He wonders what punishment at rehab is like.

MJ shifts in her sleep, turning towards him. She leans her forehead against his chest, curling up against him, her breathing deep and even. She moves to clutch his shirt, pulling him closer to her. He smiles, stroking her cheek with his hand, and pushing her hair out of her face, kissing her forehead again. As long as he’s wanted—and he seemed to be—he would stay by her side, consequences be damned.


	7. Don't Be Surprised If I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ tells Steve. TW for sexual assault description (but nothing very graphic).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried my best with this. Hope it feels real.

MJ opens her eyes briefly, before closing them again. A dull ache throbs in her head, and she ducks her head under her covers, allowing the darkness to wash over her. After a moment, she peeks her head out from the blankets, glancing at the clock. 6:24am. They’d be coming to make sure she’s awake soon. She covers her head again, groaning quietly. The throbbing won’t go away, only seems to intensify. She can’t tell if it’s from her exhausting session yesterday, or the burgeoning anxiety of what’s planned for today. Probably both.

Her session yesterday had been rougher than the usual. She spent most of it feeling shaky, tense and nauseous, which left her drained and utterly exhausted, but Lily assured her that it’s normal to feel as such when one dissects a traumatic experience. She and Lily had thoroughly discussed her relationship with Steve, how it changed with the accident, and they both came to the same conclusion: Steve needed to know. Of course, she’d known that from the start, but she’d wanted to put it off as much as she could. But it kept eating at her since Steve came for that special visit, and she knew it would be better for all parties involved to tell him sooner rather than later. She closes her eyes.

Claire’s words from that one couples therapy session before her overdose sound off in her brain. “Sometimes physical injury can trigger past trauma, even sexual trauma.” Lily had repeated those words, more or less, and suddenly everything clicked into place. That’s why she didn’t want to have sex with Steve, why she felt so resistant to every little touch or brush against her arm, when before the accident she’d been fine with that kind of thing. She had finally put a name to the deep unease she had been feeling for so long, but that name was “sexual trauma.” Which she is still reconciling is something she has. She still puts those words in air quotes in her brain, and told Lily as such, intending it to be an offhand somewhat humorous remark. And then Lily said they’d work on un-air-quotesing it. 

She absolutely hates the idea that Steve needed to know about her “sexual trauma.” Steve had no part in her messy past, and didn’t NEED to have any part in her messy past. And a small part of her had thought maybe, if she didn’t tell him, if she didn’t tell anyone for that matter, she could pretend it didn’t happen. She could be the perfect friend, perfect girlfriend then wife, perfect mom. No one had to know how dirty and broken she’d been.

But, as Lily told her again and again, it did happen, and it’s something that’s a part of her, whether she likes it or not. And clearly it’d been affecting her for quite some time and coloring her relationships. And thus, it’s better he knows.

She hears a knock on her door for the morning check in. Her stomach churns uneasily as she gets out of bed and answers it. “Good morning, MJ. I believe you have Steve coming over today, instead of a session with Lily?” Meg reminds her gently of the change in schedule. As if she needs any reminding. Lily had agreed to give up their usual session so that Steve could come and MJ could tell him. They’d also thoroughly discussed whether or not Lily should be present, and ultimately MJ had decided she wanted to keep it between the two of them. But Lily said she’d make herself available if she changed her mind. 

“Yep.” MJ says, her nausea coming back in full force. She can feel her hands start to twitch.

“Okay, good.” Meg peeks her head in. “You’re not hiding anyone, are you?” Meg teases gently. MJ reddens, shaking her head. They’d checked in on her a little more after Steve had ‘illegally’ stayed over a few days ago. “I’ll see you at breakfast at 7:30.” Meg nods to her before continuing her morning rounds.

MJ gets ready for the day, moving slowly, taking her time. Things always took a little more time now, and she has to plan for that in her daily routine. She brushes her teeth, staring at herself in the mirror; she looks much better than before, some color returning to her cheeks, but is still very tired and a little bit sickly, though her lack of make-up could account for that. She still experiences some lingering withdrawal symptoms, mostly achey muscles and nausea. At least she’s not actually vomiting this time, though. She can keep food down, and she’s starting — slowly but surely — to gain the weight she lost.

Breakfast and group therapy are a boring, quiet affair. She spends most of the morning session checked out. She’s not pressured to participate though, and she wonders if Lily had maybe tipped them off to let her off the hook. Likely—that’s something Lily would absolutely do. She gets a sharp twinge in her stomach at the idea that Lily maybe shared her… situation with some of the other staff members, but it passes quickly. Lily wouldn’t.

Her anxiety starts to get the better of her during lunch. She had told two people before—Bella and Lily. But telling Bella was... an extremely feeble attempt to reassure the poor girl, and Lily... well. Lily is not Steve. Lily had known her for 3 days, and it was somehow easier to tell her. It was her JOB to listen to her talk about her ‘sexual trauma’ and help her figure that out. And theoretically, Lily was used to hearing this sort of thing anyway. 

Steve, on the other hand… Steve had known her for 23 years. She’d kept this hidden from him that entire time (but was also trying to keep it from herself, too, to be fair to herself). Surely he must… get somewhat upset with her for keeping that from him? Would that.. affect how he sees her? Would he see her as damaged goods? Love her any less? Want to run away, screaming? 

At that thought, her breathing quickens and she has to remind herself to breathe. “Are you okay?” Anna, a woman sitting to her right and a sort of friend, leans over and whispers.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She chokes out, clearly not fine. Anna purses her lips but doesn’t say anything, merely looking away as MJ steadies her breathing. MJ silently thanks her for not making a big deal out of it.

She chastises herself for her thoughts again. She’s already damaged goods, she almost laughs to herself. She’s in rehab, isn’t she? She rolls her eyes. She’s being dramatic.

Methodically, she forces herself to table that thought and backtracks to the other thing nagging at her brain: the actual ACT of telling him. She has no idea what words she will use to tell him. She had practiced variations with Lily, but all of them didn’t feel right. Probably, once again, because it was Lily. Lily had the vocabulary, the capacity to understand and fill in the words she didn’t have, and knew how to nudge her in the right direction. 

Plus, the words she had to stay still tasted weird on her tongue. She is, after all, still working on un-air-quotesing her own “sexual assault.”

Lunch is suddenly done and MJ can feel her hands twitch and her breath catch in her throat. For a fleeting moment, she contemplates asking Lily to be there too, but this is such an intimate, personal thing that she feels… it would be a disservice to their relationship to have Lily be there. And she genuinely wants to do this by herself.

As she sits in her room on her bed, waiting for Steve, her anxiety bubbles up inside her and she starts to shake and hyperventilate. She sits stiffly, trying to still her movements, to no avail. Since Steve had been asked to come in specifically, during a time when he’s traditionally not allowed, she has to do it. She doesn’t want him to drive all the way out here only to not tell him.

There’s no turning back, she tells herself firmly. She WILL do this. This is a vital step that she, Mary Jane Healy, has to take.

~

Steve enters the center and follows the signs to the office. He’s uneasy about this visit. Lily had called him yesterday and asked him to come in at a certain time that are not normal visiting hours. He, in fact, had been ready to drop everything yesterday and book it over to Keystone when he got Lily’s call initially, but Lily assured him that he didn’t need to come, just come tomorrow. And so he waited. He’d thought about coming anyway, but he didn’t think that’d go over too well given the fact that he’d stayed over when he wasn’t supposed to a few days ago.

Meg is waiting outside the office for him. “Mr. Healy! Welcome!” She greets him warmly. He’s a little sheepish, uncertain of the appropriate way to respond. The last time she’d spoken to him had been to remind him of the rules of Keystone. They’d caught him trying to sneak out; but to be fair, he had never been that sneaky. He’d taken all the blame, of course, not wanting MJ to get in any sort of trouble on her second day there. Meg had not been harsh at all, but it certainly felt embarrassing to be reprimanded, however gently, by a woman in her late 20s. Plus he’d felt bad for ‘impeding MJ’s road to recovery.’

Meg, sensing his unease, gives him a warm smile. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to breathe down your neck. Just make sure to check out. And we will do a better job checking next time, too.”

Steve follows her to MJ’s room, and finds MJ sitting on her bed, a strange look of calm on her face. It unnerves him a little bit; she seemed to have the look painted on. Like one wrong move and she would crack. Meg leaves, excusing herself, and it’s the two of them again.

“Hey.” He says quietly. “May I?” He gestures to a spot on the bed next to her. He notices her hands are twitching, similar to when he had come to the center last. At least she doesn’t seem to be flinching from him this time, Steve thinks to himself.

“Please.” MJ replies.

Her mouth is suddenly dry, her throat is dry, and she feels numb. She feels herself open her mouth, and then close it, before opening it again.

“MJ?” Steve asks. He wants to hold her hands, to remind her that he’s here for her, whatever it is that’s on her mind, but he’s scared of scaring her again, especially when she’s acting like this.

“There is something you should know.” MJ says, her voice trembling. Her brain is whirring, moving so fast, but she somehow manages to get herself to slow down and focus on the pattern of the carpet at her feet. She can’t bring herself to look at Steve at the moment.

“Okay.” Steve says quietly.

“No more secrets, right?”

“Right.” Steve nods. 

MJ pauses, regaining her senses. The haze in her mind suddenly clears, and the words come tumbling out. This is it, this is all she needs to do. This is all she needs to tell him, and then they can figure out where to go from here. “So… you know how Claire referenced physical trauma triggering sexual trauma? I was sexually assaulted in college.”

That is NOT how she had practiced it with Lily at all. She frowns at herself, a little confused as to why it came out so much clearer at that moment than it ever had before, and so fast too. She’d thought that she’d hem and haw for a good 30 minutes before getting it out, and here they were, 5 minutes into Steve’s visit, and she’d already told him. She feels… lighter. This giant secret that she’d been holding in, from herself, from all the people she loves, is starting to crawl out and free itself. She feels like she can exhale, and does so, a sigh of relief escaping her.

She takes another deep breath, barely registering that Steve hasn’t said anything. She has more to say. “I was quite drunk at a party, I let this guy I was sort of friends with take me up to his room, and—well. I didn’t want him to but he did.” She still doesn’t want to look up at him, but she stills her hands, which had begun to twitch again, forcibly putting them on her legs. She can feel tears rolling down her cheeks, but doesn’t wipe them. Her voice is surprisingly clear, uninhibited by her crying.

Steve blinks rapidly, trying to understand what in God’s name MJ is telling him. In college? She was drunk? She got assaulted— wait a minute, that’s what, more than 20 years ago? His MJ? His Mary Jane? His beautiful, strong, independent woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with? That happened to her? His mind is moving so slowly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I didn’t tell anyone, not even my parents or my closest friends. Until I told Bella, because I did think it would make her feel better, but it just made me feel worse. And then I told Lily, too.” MJ takes another steadying breath.

“I think… I think I thought that if I kept it a secret, I could start over. It would be like it never happened. Like I was fully leaving it behind, like I was done with it. But I wasn’t, and I’m… not.” MJ finally turns to look at him, not bothering to wipe the tears on her cheeks. Steve is stock still, clearly in shock.

Seeing the tears on MJ’s face stirs him into action. He moves his hands towards hers, seeking silent permission to hold them, if she’d let him. She does. “You… knew this version of me that was perfect. Put-together, clean-cut and logical. I’m… sorry I’m not that.” She says, more tears coming. “You didn’t need to know the ugliness. Or, at least, I thought you didn’t. I thought it’d be better for everyone if no one knew the messy parts.” She can feel his grip on her loosening, as he processes what she’s saying. Now, it seems, she’s holding onto him.

“MJ, I-“ He chokes out, words caught in his throat. He genuinely has no idea how to respond. “I’m sorry.” He says, clearly helpless.

She scoots closer to him, wrapping an arm around him, squeezing him. “I know.” She says quietly. “Me too.” She leans against his shoulder, all cried out now. She does want him to hold her, but she doesn’t want to push him. He seems… a little antsy at the moment.

As his brain unfreezes, Steve wraps his arms around her, holding onto her tightly. He can feel shaking, but realizes that that’s him, not her. She seems to be oddly calm.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He says, his voice coming out strangely hoarse. He still can’t seem to breathe right.

“Am I okay?” She laughs humorlessly. “Are you okay?”

“It’s… I’m- this- I’m- I’m sorry.“ Steve can’t seem to get words out, aside from apologizing again and again.

“It’s okay.” She says gently, her heart reaching out to him. He’s endearingly speechless, and she can tell that he wants to help, to make her feel better, to be supportive and loving. In a way, his feeble, desperate attempts to speak are making her feel better. 

“I really wish I knew what to say.” He says. “I’m sorry I don’t.” 

“It’s okay.” She says again, looking up at him, a small smile on her face.

“Um.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know.” MJ says softly, holding his cheek. She moves in to hug him again, breathing in his scent. His erratic, anxious breathing begins to relax as she holds onto him. She feels a little more content, satisfied that she seems to be calming him down. She closes her eyes, feeling his heartbeat slow to a normal speed. She feels his hand start to rub her back in circles, his instinct to comfort her kicking in.

“MJ?” He says finally, a thought clearing in his muddled, hazy brain.

“Hm?”

“I want you to know that… I want to know all of you. Including the messy you.” He says. 

MJ feels tears sting at her eyes again, and presses her face against his shoulder. She did know that. She could feel the care and love in his strangled voice as he tried to rationalize and figure out the best thing to say, the best way to react, yet his emotions kept stopping him. But it’s a whole other relief to have him say it out loud. 

They will get through this together.

~

Steve can’t sleep.

MJ had texted him good night with her secret phone hours ago, and he had been tossing and turning ever since.

The knot that had been sitting in Steve’s stomach since he got to Keystone had not eased up since leaving. He had dinner with his family in relative silence, not saying much about his visit to the center. 

Okay, so MJ had been sexually assaulted in college. That’s a fact that he’s going to have to deal with.

“Deal” with. More like haunt him forever.

Anger flares up in his stomach suddenly, and he wants nothing more than to punch whoever the bastard was that did this to MJ.

It passes as quickly as it came, and Steve is back to staring up at his ceiling, his mind a jumbled collection of scattered thoughts.

A sudden pang of guilt washes over him, and settles in. He’d tried so hard to touch her and kiss her, so many times, even in non-sexual ways. She’d rolled over, ignored him, and he thought she had just been… he doesn’t know. Annoyed?

He really should have picked up on that.

Yeah, he had stopped as she kept avoiding him, but he should have stopped it much sooner. So much sooner. He turns uneasily as he thinks back to all the times he’d tried to reach out to her, and how his efforts had been rebuffed. God, how much had he triggered her?

He sighs, throwing off the covers. He glances at the clock: 2:13am. Sleep really isn’t going to be happening anytime soon. He goes down to the living room and turns on the TV, flipping through channels aimlessly. He stops when he sees The Parent Trap is on. It’s MJ’s favorite.

“Dad?”

Frankie has come down, and is standing in the doorway.

“Frankie, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t know what the sound was.” She walks over to the couch, and Steve shifts, moving over so she can join him. “Mom’s favorite.” She comments.

“Yeah.” He says, sighing deeply. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Frankie sneaks a glance at him. He looks exhausted and weary. He typically did, because of his demanding job, but this is a different kind of weary, one that seems… more emotional. These past few days had really taken a toll on him. And she could tell he does not like not being able to see MJ every day, and being able to check on her progress. Both her parents had some major control issues.

Hallie (as Annie) has just met her mom for the first time. Frankie squeezes his hand. This is MJ’s favorite scene, she made it known to everyone. No one knew why, to be honest, since MJ had a terrible relationship with her own mother. Perhaps it was a dream of what could be.

Frankie leans on his shoulder, as she starts to get sleepy again. “I love you, dad.” She says quietly, before closing her eyes.

Steve wraps an arm around Frankie, holding her tightly, feeling her settle against him. That’s the first time she had said that to him in a long time. He cannot recall the last time she said that to him. His throat tightens and his breath catches.

“I love you too, Frankie. Always.”

Steve rests his head atop Frankie’s, and finally manages to fall asleep, as Hallie and her mom bond for the first time and “Here Comes the Sun” plays quietly in the background.


	8. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ has two very vivid nightmares that rattle her to her very core, resulting in a late night panic attack. Steve and the kids visit for New Year's Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Descriptions of sexual assault — nothing extraordinarily graphic, but a lot of panic and anxiety surrounding it.

Someone is on top of MJ, and won’t get off. They’re suffocating her, pressing against her chest, trapping her.

“Please- stop-“ She whimpers quietly. But whoever it is doesn’t.

She looks around frantically, trying to find some way to get out. She sees a door. Get to the door, get to the door. Panic rises in her belly and she can feel her breath shortening, her chest constricting, as she is pinned against the bed. She wants to scream for help, but she can’t speak, she’s so paralyzed with fear. It’s so dark in the room and outside but she can still hear the sounds of the party downstairs. Suddenly, she feels hands touching her hips, then her stomach, then her arms, one arm pinned tightly to the mattress-

MJ shoots up from the bed, breathing heavily, heart pounding, trying to find whoever had been on top of her. She moans, a little dizzy from how fast she sat up. She holds herself tightly, shaking, trying to slow her breathing. The image of whoever had been pinning her to the bed swims in and out of focus, her mind foggy. But the fear lingers in her bones, making her skin prickle uncomfortably, as her anxiety heightens and she hyperventilates even more.

Suddenly she feels her stomach churn and bolts out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. She hurls into the toilet, coughing and clearing her throat. Sure enough, her intense nausea is enough to snap her out of her sleep-addled haze. Kneeling on the ground, leaning heavily on the toilet seat, she groans, closing her eyes, trying to stop her head from spinning.

It had just been a nightmare. 

But it had been incredibly vivid, so clear, so real, the most since… well. Since it had first happened 25 years ago.

She’d had this nightmare before, even recently, but it’d been vague and foggy. However this time she could SO feel the weight of someone on top of her. It felt like it was happening all over again.

“Take a breath.” She tells herself firmly, as she sits back up. “Leaning your head on the toilet is disgusting.” She slowly pushes herself back up off the ground and moves to wash her hands.

Her skin crawls with discomfort, and she rubs her arm vigorously, trying to shake the feeling of someone touching her off, trying to wipe it off. As her breathing and heart rate slow, the sensation doesn’t leave, still prickling the back of her neck. She splashes water on her face and forces herself to take a few more deep breaths, an attempt to settle her still uneasy stomach. 

She looks in the mirror, staring at her face. She’s slowly regaining her weight back, but her cheeks still look hollow, and they’re a little pale. It’s still early in the morning, before her alarm goes off, but she doesn’t have much time left to sleep anyway. She sighs. Might as well get ready for the day.

Today is supposed to be fun, exciting. And, truthfully, she IS looking forward to it. The kids and Steve are coming to have New Years Eve dinner. She hasn’t seen her kids since they visited her in the hospital and Frankie freaked out, so she’s hopeful that she can make it up to them by appearing somewhat like the mom they’re used to. 

Plus, she misses them.

Like, so much.

Her kids have been her livelihood for the past 18 years, since Nick. And spending this many days without them, without being able to see them, talk to them, care for them had been painful. Being a mom IS tiring — she’d be the first to concede that, having spent so long trying to be the Best Mom — but it’s also... her entire life, the reason she got up every morning. And now...

She goes through the motions of getting herself ready, trying to ignore the dull throb of uneasiness sitting in her stomach from the vividness of the nightmare, how visceral the faceless man’s touch felt on her body. She washes her face, brushes her teeth, and even makes an effort to put on some mascara.

But when Meg comes by for morning rounds, she’s still noticeably shaken and distressed. “Good morning- are you okay?” Meg asks, concerned, stepping into the room. 

“Yes.” MJ says evasively. She can’t shake the feeling off but maybe, maybe if she pretends hard enough for other people, she can pretend it away. Or at least, pretend it away enough so that she can present her best self for her family. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” MJ repeats, avoiding Meg’s gaze. Meg knows better than to press someone who doesn’t want to say anything, especially this early in the morning, and just during morning check in. 

Meg nods, and steps out. “I’ll see you at breakfast, okay?” 

“Okay.” MJ replies. Meg closes the door behind her and makes a note on her clipboard, before resuming her rounds.

MJ rests her back against the closed door, rubbing her temple, sighing, before straightening up.

Today will be good, she tells herself firmly, going to open the curtains to let the morning light in. She rubs her arm again.

~

MJ waits for her family in a small waiting room, staring at the floor. Her stomach is still very unsettled, and she still feels jumpy. She swears she can still feel the phantom touch on her if she thinks about it for too long. So she spends a lot of time actively thinking away from it. 

Her session with Lily had been mostly about how she felt about what happened when she told Steve, and they discussed how calm she had been and how much she trusted him instinctively. How this made her feel more… open with him, even though he could barely say anything. But she didn’t tell Lily about her dream. Well, maybe she’ll tell Lily later. But she doesn’t need to tell her now. Now, it’s time to focus on her family. 

When Steve, Frankie, and Nick come in, Steve notices that MJ looks exhausted, like she didn’t sleep well, like something is on her mind. She keeps rubbing her arm, and he’s not sure if she’s even conscious of how much she’s rubbing it. On the car ride over to Keystone, he had told the kids to take cues from MJ, telling them that MJ might be a little on edge, might not be as ‘mom’ as she usually is, might not want to be hugged or touched. He also said the Bella situation is off limits, unless MJ brings it up.

But she greets them with a slightly tired, worn smile, and does make the move to hug them. Steve even notices she put on some make up. “Hey, I missed you guys.” She says softly.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, sweetheart.” Steve murmurs as she embraces him. Steve is surprised at one, the very fact that she’s hugging them, and two, how tightly she grips him when she does, how long she lingers in his arms.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, mom.” Frankie says, as MJ embraces her too. Frankie wants to hang on a little longer; she missed MJ so much, and this time her mom isn’t catatonic on a hospital bed. The rehab center does make Frankie’s stomach a little uneasy, but she swallows it down. She wants to spend as much time with MJ as she can, no matter where or when. So when Steve asked her to keep herself free this evening, she did so with no protest.

MJ moves to hug Nick. Suddenly, she feels her heart beat a little faster and her skin prickle uncomfortably. A wave of nausea hits her already uneasy stomach, and she flinches slightly in while Nick’s arms are wrapped around her. Nick feels her tense and immediately stops hugging her, eyeing her apologetically. “Happy New Year’s Eve, mom.” Nick says timidly. 

“Happy New Year’s Eve honey.” She replies. She takes a deep breath and smiles at Nick, trying to pass it off, but the whole family noticed. She straightens up. “Shall we? We’re supposed to eat in the dining room, but I can give you a little tour? But I guess you guys have been here already…”

“Yeah, when we decorated your room.” Frankie chuckles, as they follow MJ through the hallways. “Was it too tacky?”

“Maybe, a little bit.” MJ gives her a more genuine smile. “But I loved it anyway.” MJ reaches out towards Steve as they walk, and he can feel MJ tighten her grip on his hand.

Several families are already in the dining hall, which has been decorated for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. MJ picks a table in a far corner, away from most people. MJ and Steve agree to save the table, while Frankie and Nick go get some food from the buffet. 

MJ shifts her chair so that she’s right next to him, and he wraps an arm around her. He can feel her trembling slightly, and he’s uncertain if it’s from nerves or from the cold. Regardless, he holds her tightly. She keeps his arm in place, sitting quietly with him, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. He gently kisses the side of her head, waking her out of her reverie.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks gently. 

“Yea.” MJ nods.

“No, seriously.” Steve presses.

MJ takes a deep breath. “Not really. But I don’t want to talk about it.” Steve nods, but holds her tighter.

Frankie and Nick return with food for the whole table, and MJ reluctantly leaves Steve’s embrace. Frankie and Nick chatter animatedly, Frankie talking about how the next poetry contest is in three weeks and she has nothing written, Nick talking about some minor swim team drama with the coach. They carefully avoid the two elephants in the room: MJ’s overdose and the situation with Bella. 

Steve surreptitiously glances at MJ as she eats, silently taking in the time with her family. Normally, MJ is talkative at family dinners. But this is the first one post-overdose, and getting used to quiet, reserved MJ is something they’re all learning. She is eating, though, which is something Steve is grateful for. She seems to be regaining the weight she had lost while in the hospital.

As the evening continues, MJ is getting weary, worn out. The kids somehow have found more gossip to talk about, somehow not Bella related, and now are chatting animatedly about some kid from school who maybe made out with someone else or maybe not, MJ’s not entirely sure. She’s not really following the conversation. She leans her head on Steve’s shoulder, feeling her eyes grow heavy.

Steve can sense MJ’s exhaustion overtaking her, as her head on his shoulder feels heavier. “Alright, I think we should probably head home.” Steve says. “Finish your dessert, guys.”

“Oh, I couldn’t eat anymore.” Frankie says, pushing her unfinished cake towards Nick. Nick shrugs and finishes her piece. The four of them get up from the table and walk back towards the entrance, where they sign out.

“You guys go to the car first, okay? I’ll be there in a moment.” Steve says to Frankie and Nick. Frankie gives her mom a quick hug, and Nick gives her a small wave, as they walk towards the parking lot. 

Steve and MJ stand at the check-in station. She wraps her arms around him tightly, burying her face into his chest. Steve rubs her back gently, reassuringly. “Happy New Year’s Eve, MJ.”

“Happy New Year’s Eve.” She replies, her grip on him tightening. She kind of wants a New Years kiss, but she’s not sure she’s ready for that yet, and she knows Steve won’t push her. 

She closes her eyes as he kisses her forehead. “That’s for the New Year.” He says quietly, almost as if he read her mind. She gives him a small, sad smile, then gives him one last hug. She watches as Steve walks away, before retiring to her room for the evening.

~

Someone is on top of MJ. Again. Pinning her arm over her head against the mattress, their weight settling uncomfortably on her. She begs them to stop again, but they don’t. She whimpers softly. 

She looks around again, trying to find a way out. She sees a door. She shifts, urgently trying to move towards the door. She can’t move, she can’t breathe. Whether from fear or from whoever it is that’s pinning her, she’s not sure, but all she knows is that she cannot escape, and she needs to escape.

The door opens, and light from the hallway spills in. She glances over, and notices Nick standing there. He is expressionless, unmoving, staring at MJ and whoever is on top of her. 

Air returns to her lungs and manages to speak. “Please help me…” She wants to scream, but she can only manage a small whisper.

Nick simply stares at her, still not moving. Suddenly, she feels hands touching her hips, then her stomach, then her arms, one arm pinned tightly to the mattress- and Nick is still standing there, not moving- hands continue to move towards the hem of her pants-

MJ sits straight up in bed, shaking uncontrollably, her chest pounding impossibly fast. She glances frantically around the room, looking for who had been on top of her again. When she looks at the door, she also expects to see Nick standing there. He isn’t. 

She grips her shoulders, rocking herself back and forth. The panic keeps rising inside her until it makes it impossible for her to breathe normally. She’s getting lightheaded from her rapid breathing, and it starts to sting her chest badly. She’s shaking uncontrollably from some place deep inside her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows it’s a nightmare, but the visceral fear from being pinned and the hurt from seeing Nick do nothing lingers. She’s stuck somewhere in the haze between the nightmare world and the real world, and keeps rubbing her arms, almost scratching them, trying to relieve herself of the dirtiness she is suddenly feeling.

Meg, on nighttime rounds, walks past. She hears a small gasp from MJ’s room, and listens closer at the door. Oh shit. She recognizes the sounds of hyperventilating and a panic attack. “MJ? It’s Meg.” She knocks on the door.

MJ is still on her bed, rubbing her arms, her breathing short, her chest seizing up and tightening uncomfortably. She can’t answer the door.

Meg opens the door and the light from the hallway spills into the room. MJ turns to the door, fear etched on her face. Somewhere, in the back of her brain, she’s starting to come out of the nightmare world. But the panic isn’t leaving her mind and body. 

Meg approaches the bed slowly, carefully, not wanting to startle her. “MJ, it’s me, Meg. Can you please take deep breaths for me?”

MJ shakes her head, holding herself tightly, her nails digging into her skin. She rubs her arms again. Meg kneels by her bed, placing a hand next to MJ.

“Okay, MJ, can we please try to breathe together? On three, okay? One, two, three-“ On three, Meg takes a deep breath, hoping MJ would follow. MJ tries, but her breath gets caught in her throat and she ends up coughing, before resuming her rapid breathing.

“Okay, MJ, I’m going to do a different technique with you. This is called grounding. I want you to name five things you can see. Just anything in the room, okay? Five things.” Meg kneels more comfortably on the ground and tries to make eye contact with MJ, who can’t seem to focus on anything.

MJ closes her eyes, trying to slow herself down for even a brief second, just the briefest of moments so that she can do what Meg is telling her to and calm down. Her chest hurts so badly, and she feels like everyone in the world can probably hear her heartbeat.

She opens her eyes again, and, despite her hazy vision and pounding head, she forces herself to look around the room and manages to find five things. Her voice is hoarse, whispery, but Meg hears. “The armchair… the bathroom door… the Christmas tree… the shoes by the door… my towel….” Her breathing slows for just a moment as she speaks before resuming it’s rapid pace. But Meg can already hear her starting to calm down.

“Okay, very good. The next is to tell me four things you can feel. Anything you can feel or touch with your hands.” Meg urges, still keeping her hand next to MJ’s leg, but not touching her.

MJ closes her eyes again, the pounding in her head getting worse, but her breathing is starting to get more manageable. She reaches her hands out and starts to feel around. “My blanket… my wedding ring… my bedside table… your hand.” She takes Meg’s hand and holds onto it tightly, not letting go. Meg can tell she needs someone to reassure her at the moment, and uses her thumb to rub gentle circles on the top of her hand. Slowly but surely, MJ is regaining control of her own breathing.

“Excellent. You’re doing great. Next is three things you can hear. Anything.”

MJ closes her eyes a third time, trying to listen to something other than her own thoughts. “My breathing… the heater... the clock ticking.”

“We’re almost done. Two things you can smell. If you can’t smell anything you can name something you smelled earlier today.” Meg continues to rub MJ’s hand.

MJ successfully takes a deep breath before speaking, her voice a little clearer now. “My face wash, the brownies from dinner.”

“Okay, this is the last step of grounding. One thing you can taste. Once again, if you can’t taste anything, you can just name something you tasted earlier.” Meg keeps her voice low and steady, and her hand firm on MJ’s.

MJ closes her eyes and licks her lips quickly. “My chapstick.”

“Very good. Can you take some deep breaths with me, now?” Meg asks softly. MJ opens her eyes and looks at Meg. “On the count of three. One, two-“

On three, they both inhale and exhale together. MJ can manage her own breathing, but the shaking inside her won’t go away. She rubs her chest with one hand and still holds Meg’s hand with her other.

“Okay. Take a few more deep breaths for me.”

MJ does as she’s told, her breathing settling more into something normal.

“Okay, good. Now, is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Meg asks. She knows it’s not likely MJ will, but asks anyway.

MJ is hesitant. Meg is not Lily and does not have all the backstory needed, but… maybe just a little bit.

“I had a nightmare.” MJ says quietly. “And it felt really real.”

“Okay.” Meg makes a note on her clipboard. “Did that… have anything to do with this morning, by any chance?” MJ nods. “Alright. MJ, do you want to tell me anything else?” MJ shakes her head. Too much to tell in such a short period of time, and her chest won’t stop hurting, and her head is suddenly incredibly heavy. She wants to go back to sleep.

Meg takes a breath. She’s hesitant to leave MJ alone, but MJ is calm now, and won’t communicate with her. MJ almost reads her expression. “Meg, I just want to go back to sleep. I promise I will talk to Lily about this.”

Meg chuckles lightly. “I believe you. I’ll tell Lily, anyway. We have to report these things, you know.” Meg gives MJ’s hand one last squeeze before standing up and moving towards the door. “I’m on the night shift tonight, too, so I’ll be around if you need anything, okay?” Meg closes the door. 

MJ is alone again in the dark.

Her skin crawls uneasily immediately, and her heart rate picks up again. She turns on the lamp by her bed, suddenly not wanting to sleep without a light on. She looks over at the clock by her bed. 1:21am. Happy New Year to me, she thinks to herself.

She rubs her chest and her arm, still deeply unsettled by her dream.

Maybe it would have been better not to tell Steve. Not to tell anyone. Retelling it seemed to bring the dream back in full force, and seeing Nick again… 

She shakes her head. The whole Nick thing is something that is really messing with her brain, and while it is confusing her and definitely contributing to her anxiety, she is with it enough to know that 1:21am is not the time to parse these thoughts on her own.

But wait, she doesn’t have to be on her own…

She pulls out the secret phone from under her pillow, unlocking it. She pauses for a brief moment, before deciding to just do it.

Steve hasn’t been sleeping well ever since MJ had told him everything that happened, and especially with MJ being so antsy earlier that evening, he is particularly on edge. So when he hears the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call he wakes immediately, turns on a lamp, and picks up. 

“MJ? Are you okay?” He asks softly.

MJ whimpers quietly in response, shifting to her side. She rests the phone right next to her, away from the front door. “Can you just… stay with me for a minute. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course I can.” Steve replies. Clearly, MJ won’t tell him right now. Steve rests his phone on his bedside table and watches MJ shift the blankets. He gets a brief glimpse of MJ’s face, and notices a hollow kind of fear in her eyes. 

MJ closes her eyes. A pause. Steve wonders if she’ll say anything else, before: “I had a nightmare. It felt very real, and it scared me so much I woke up.” 

Oh. Steve can guess what it’s about. “I’m sorry.” He says simply. He wants to wrap her in a tight hug.

“It’s okay. Just… stay with me while I fall asleep, if that’s not… too weird.”

“Of course.”

MJ wishes she could be in his arms more than anything, but this will have to do for now. Her chest still hurts, and her arm still feels the phantom hand pinning her down, but she can hear Steve’s deep breathing and that’s comforting enough for her for now. Finally, sleep overtakes her. 

Steve watches her fall asleep on FaceTime, her forehead creased in worry and maybe some pain. She keeps rubbing her chest, and he makes a mental note to ask her about that. Eventually, her expression fades into something somewhat neutral

He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at MJ sleeping and when he himself fell asleep, but when he wakes up hours later, MJ is still sleeping in the same position on their FaceTime call. Her expression has relaxed even more now, and she looks peaceful and serene again.

“MJ?” He whispers sleepily. MJ doesn’t stir. He doesn’t try to wake her up, knowing she needs to sleep. “I love you.” Steve whispers even more quietly, before closing his eyes again, not bothering to hang up.


	9. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ and her therapist thoroughly dissect her dreams and her panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is somewhat of a transitional chapter—originally written as a small precursor to a scene with Steve, but then it became its own big chapter + I didn't want to do the complicated situation with Nick a disservice. TW for descriptions of sexual assault.

MJ sits awkwardly in Lily’s office. She fiddles with the hem of her shirt as Lily organizes some notes. 

As Lily gathers her papers, she watches MJ fidget out of the corner of her eye. Lily has realized that this tic is symptomatic of something nagging at the back of MJ’s mind. As she’s talked more with MJ, MJ seems to be ready and willing to tell her things, despite how closed off and aloof she was when Lily first met her.

“Okay, MJ. I’m sorry for taking a bit, my papers got messy. Happy New Year, by the way.” Lily says, straightening up. 

“You too.” MJ replies. She tries to still her hands, but they tremble slightly. 

“So, how’s the new year treating you?” Lily asks. She’d already read Meg’s notes about last night, but would rather MJ bring it up herself. And she doesn’t think she’ll have to wait too long for MJ to do so.

MJ takes a deep breath. “Ever since I started trying to like… take “this” seriously-“ MJ does the air quotes. 

Lily stops her. “What did we say about air quotes?” She reminds her gently.

“-to not do them. Yes. Okay.” MJ nods, taking another deep breath. “Ever since I started trying to take this seriously, I feel like I’ve become more scared of, I don’t know, almost everything, and I feel super on edge all the time, and the memories are so intense and vivid and terrifying and…” 

MJ pauses, realizing she’s getting herself a little bit worked up and speaking too fast. She closes her eyes. In, hold, out, she recites in her brain. Lily waits for her to gather herself.

“Okay, sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Lily says this to her probably at least 5 times a session.

MJ nods, and takes a shaky breath. “Ever since I told Steve that I was assaulted-“ Her voice falters for a moment. “I’ve been having really vivid dreams about it. Like... basically reliving it. I can even feel it sometimes.” She whispers. She looks at the floor, avoiding Lily’s gaze, staring at the carpet. She could probably draw the pattern by heart now.

“So… that girl, Bella, the one who was sexually assaulted, who Nick is friends with. Nick-” MJ pauses. She looks down at her hands; she only just realizes that she’s pulled a thread on her shirt completely through. “Nick… he was there. He said he saw it happen and he didn’t do anything-“ Her voice catches and she has to stop again. She closes her eyes, trying to forget the image of Nick not doing anything, leaving Bella/herself helpless, but she can’t.

“This dream-“ She can hear how small her voice sounds. She clears her throat, but her voice still gets lost somewhere. “I had a dream that I- it- it gave me a pretty bad panic attack.” She takes another deep breath, making a conscious effort to still her shaking hands, to stop fidgeting with the hem of her shirt lest she ruin it some more.

“Nick-“ MJ starts again, before stopping. Lily nods, leaning back in her chair, waiting for MJ to continue. MJ keeps fighting to find the words to explain the nightmare, but suddenly she’s at a loss for them. She keeps opening her mouth to start and then stops.

Lily can sort of guess where this might be headed. To know that your own son did nothing when someone was assaulted, having been assaulted yourself… 

“So in my dream, I was in the bed again-“ She feels a little panic start to bubble up inside her again, and shakes her head, as if to tell her body to stop. No, you’re not reliving it right now, MJ, she thinks to herself firmly. “I was in the bed again, and I was- well Nick was- I-“ She takes a shaky breath as her brain races ahead of her speaking. “I was in the bed, and I could- I could feel him on top-“ She can feel tears prickling at her eyes. “Like, really feel him.”

MJ takes another deep breath, her voice cracking despite the words now coming more easily. She closes her eyes. “And while I was just there, under him, I remember looking to the side and I saw this door. Before I used to think that if someone came in, it would stop. He would stop, and I’d be able to get away. And I could hear all these people walking around outside, people still partying, and I just. Imagined that if someone came in and saw me, But then…”

She stops completely, just unable to continue speaking. Lily nudges the box of tissues towards her again, and she takes one. Mostly so that she doesn’t fidget with her shirt anymore. 

“I can imagine it must be hard to know that Nick did nothing when a similar thing happened to Bella.” Lily says gently.

MJ nods. She’s no longer looking at the carpet but she still won’t meet Lily’s eyes. “Nick… he appeared. In my nightmare. And I called out to him and he just… stood there.” She tries to fight back tears, her voice now a whisper. “And did nothing.”

She looks down at the tissue in her hands, now ripped to shreds. “And he- when they all came to visit yesterday, he gave me a hug and just- when he touched it me it made me feel kind of sick inside and my skin just felt- and I flinched and-“ She takes another deep breath. “I feel like a horrible person. An even worse mom.” She finishes flatly. She finally looks up at Lily. She can feel a sort of nauseating churning in her stomach, but swallows it down. This is good, she reminds herself. It’s good to tell someone these things. 

Lily leans forward. “Those are okay feelings to have, MJ.” She speaks softly. 

“I still love my son a lot.” MJ says defensively, looking up. “He’s… my son.”

“Of course.” Lily says smoothly. “I recognize that it must be hard to reconcile. It would be for anyone.” MJ says nothing, but still looks dejected. Lily can tell that everything feels raw. “This is a pretty complicated situation and will take a lot of time to work through and really… sort through your feelings.”

“I just- he’s my son.” MJ says simply. Those words are starting to feel foreign on her tongue, and she hates it. 

Lily speaks carefully. “I think it would be very helpful for you to talk to Steve about this.” At MJ’s reluctant face, Lily continues. “This is clearly something that is affecting your relationship with your kids, and also sharing this will help you get better at sharing these things with Steve. I know your family is very important to you, and they’re your support system. So they should know what’s giving you panic attacks.”

“I just… don’t want to worry him.” MJ says meekly. 

Lily chuckles. “I think he will worry, whether or not you want him to.”

MJ sighs. She knows she should. Telling Lily had been hard enough; for some reason, talking about the dream with Nick feels like she’s being a bad mother. She feels horrible for even thinking such terrible things about Nick. He tries so hard to be a good and supportive brother to Frankie, a studious and well-behaved son to both her and Steve… and he really has made her so proud. But this... she can’t shake the ‘bad mother’ feeling, like she didn’t raise him as perfectly as she thought. Or she didn’t know him as well as she thought, didn’t pay attention. She did something wrong, clearly. She stares at the ripped tissue shreds on her lap, trying to imagine how she even would broach the subject with Steve.

“And,” Lily pauses, as if preparing to tell MJ something she knows will set her off. “I do think you will need to tell Nick at some point-” 

MJ snaps her head up, her nausea suddenly hitting her in full force again. “No, no. I can’t. Absolutely not.” Her voice is shaking, and she can feel her breathing speed up. “No, just- I can’t tell him. What will he think of me?” She asks, horrified, more to herself than to Lily.

“Okay, okay. MJ, take a deep breath.”

MJ does, but the churning in her stomach doesn’t stop. She closes her eyes and takes another breath, without prompting from Lily. She’s getting a tiny bit better at calming herself down. 

“We’ll come back to that later. I just want that to be something that you think about. But for now, I think you should tell Steve.”

“Okay. I think I can do that.”

Lily smiles warmly at MJ. “Good. Now, I’d like to talk to you about managing your panic attacks. Has this only recently started, with Bella’s assault coming into the picture?”

MJ bites her lip, embarrassed. “No.” She sighs. “I… well, I guess- I got them a lot. Way before the overdose. And I didn’t really ask for help because — I mean, maybe on some level I thought I needed some help, but I didn’t want to ask or burden anyone… but anyway, I just kinda got through them and moved on.”

MJ’s mind wanders to one of her bad panic attacks from before the overdose. She remembers being in a fetal position, on the floor of her and Steve’s bathroom, after some huge fight she and Frankie had. It was when she’d first realized that maybe her relationship with her daughter was not what she wanted, but was starting to mirror that of her and her own mother’s. She doesn’t even remember what they had fought about, but she remembers the cold tiled bathroom floor, holding herself tightly for far too many minutes, shaking, crying, her breathing ragged and difficult.

“MJ?” She snaps out of her reverie at Lily’s voice. Lily is staring at her, concerned. MJ looked as though she’d dissociated for a moment, dead-eyed, lost in thought. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was just… thinking.” MJ takes a breath. God, her old ‘methods’ were not super effective. She clears her throat. “Um… Yeah. I guess I didn’t really get through them… it was really hard.” She admits, biting her lip again. She can almost feel the phantom hurt in her chest that she usually got after a particularly debilitating one.

“It’s okay to have panic attacks, MJ.” Lily says gently. “It’s human. ”

“I know, I’m just…” MJ closes her eyes. “I guess… I didn’t really cope well.” 

Lily can see how hard that is for MJ to admit. For someone who is so focused on her appearance and how others perceive her… any kind of crack is a weakness and any weakness makes her less than perfect. And MJ is cracking all over, repeatedly, and every crack is massive. 

“I think we’re starting to learn what your triggers are, which will help in understanding where the panic attacks might come from and when they might occur.” Lily nods encouragingly. She puts her clipboard to the side and turns so that she’s facing MJ head on. 

“MJ, the number one thing I want you to remember when you have a panic attack is to breathe. I know it seems like the most obvious thing, but sometimes you can forget. You need to exhale for longer than you inhale to slow your nervous system and help turn off your fight or flight response. One effective way is using the 4-7-8 sleep technique, which is also good if you’re having trouble falling asleep, sans a panic attack. Inhale for 4, hold for 7, and exhale for 8 seconds.”

MJ does as Lily tells her. They take a few deep breaths together.

“Okay, good. Can you remember that one?”

“4, 7, 8. Inhale, hold, exhale. Yep.” MJ nods. 

“Try that first. If that doesn’t work, you can work on trying to focus on one thing. Either something you see or something you hear, like how the second hand ticks on a clock, or if you can hear the actual ticking of a clock. Something calming, something steady. And, if you’re really too far gone, or having trouble with those, you can always do grounding, which I believe Meg went over with you last night. 5 things you see, 4 things you feel, 3 things you hear, 2 things you smell, and 1 thing you taste. You can stop if you feel like it’s getting too repetitive.”

“I liked going through the cycle.” MJ says quietly. It did calm her down significantly, and she likes being able to complete things.

“Okay, that’s good.” Lily says, her voice brightening. She likes to conclude on a more positive note. “Those are some pretty common methods, but they all center around slowing yourself down. So just remember to slow down and breathe.” 

“And that should do some damage control?” MJ asks hopefully. Her mind goes a million miles a minute almost all the time. She already has to remind herself to breathe most of the time, but having actual numbers to focus on… she likes the concreteness of it.

Lily smiles. “Yeah, it should help.” She checks her watch. “It looks like we’re done, then.” 

MJ stands. “Thank you.” She says sincerely. “And Happy New Year.” 

“Happy New Year to you too, MJ. See you tomorrow.” Lily nods, watching her leave.

MJ closes the door behind her and closes her eyes. Much to think about. She has to tell Steve about Nick, and tell Nick about Nick, and tell Frankie all of this eventually- 

Stop. Deep breaths, MJ. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.

The nausea that had been churning endlessly in her stomach settles, the weight sitting on her chest and shoulders lifting. Even if it is only for a brief moment, she feels at peace.

This is good. This is working.


	10. I Love You Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ tells Steve about a few things on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Steve/MJ fluff at the end!

MJ waits to tell Steve about the Nick dream until he visits a few days later. She and Lily had prepped her, again, like they had when she told Steve about her own assault. They had practiced over and over. It feels like it should be a little easier, but it’s so much harder, because it’s so much more complicated.

Not only that, but she and Lily had discussed doing some sort of... a ‘weekly debriefing’ with Steve when he visits, an ‘agenda’ of sorts — to help with the rebuilding of their relationship and rebuilding MJ’s trust in Steve. So they parsed through the different things she wanted to tell him, so she doesn’t continue her old pattern of hiding things. She kept going over the list in her head, so that she doesn’t forget it — she really does want to tell him these things — but it ALSO made her feel more anxious.

So when she sees Steve walk into the waiting room at the exact moment visiting hours start, she’s practically vibrating with a mix of anxious energy and genuine excitement. His visits are the one of the few things she has to look forward to. It reminds her a bit of when they first started dating and she realized she was falling for him, more than she had for anyone before. She’d feel that rush of adrenaline when he walked in, just happy to spend time with him in any capacity. It had been a long time since she’d felt that way. Guess I was taking him for granted, she thinks to herself, as he walks towards her, holding a plastic bag and a cup of coffee.

“Hey stranger.” Steve wraps an arm round her. He can feel her relax into his embrace, hugging him back. He kisses her forehead gently, and she looks up at him with a welcoming smile. His heart warms at her face; it’s nice to see her not look miserable.

“I missed you.” She says softly.

“Me too.”

“You missed you?” MJ replies playfully. 

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Steve grins. They walk out of the waiting room, waving to the sign-in staff. “I grabbed a donut on the way here because I was hungry.“ Steve starts to eat the donut, keeping an arm around her as they walk down the hallway. “What do you want to do today? I was thinking maybe we could walk in that garden, it looks pretty—“

“I have… things that I need to tell you.” MJ interrupts, almost ashamed. Her agenda is on her mind.

“Alright.” Steve nods.

MJ leads Steve into her room, and they close the door behind them. Steve sets his bag down at the table and takes a seat. MJ busies herself making some tea, boiling water in the kettle, suddenly not wanting to tell him anything. “Do you want any tea?” She asks, her voice suddenly a little higher-pitched. Her anxiety is starting to get the better of her, as the time to tell him about Nick and her dream draws closer.

“I’m set, I have coffee.” Steve replies, watching MJ. He can sense she’s suddenly nervous, even with her back turned to him. He moves to stand next to her. “Hey. It’s me.” He says gently, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know, I know.” She says, shaking her head, turning to face him. “I’m just… Okay. Sorry. I’m in my head. You know…” She sighs, taking a calming breath. She kicks her shoes off and sits on the bed cross legged, motioning for him to join her. He does, facing her.

“So, Lily and I talked… about doing this, uh, “weekly debrief” thing with you. Where I just… make sure I tell you things that happened and that are on my mind and how I feel.” MJ says awkwardly.

“I like that idea.” 

“It’s so that I don’t hide things.” She takes a breath. “And don’t keep my feelings all bottled up so that one day they explode and I do something crazy and get into rehab again.”

“That’s a good thing to prevent.” The corners of Steve’s lips twitch slightly; it’s nice to see MJ joke a little bit.

“You share too. Like, a reciprocal thing. So that we trust each other again.” MJ says the last part shyly. 

“I’m on board.” Steve nods. “You start?” He says encouragingly.

“So, uh… well. I finished my detox a few days ago.”

“Yeah I know, I think you told me already.” Oh right, she had texted him that. Steve smiles at her warmly. “That’s good. How do you feel?”

“Better… I think.” She looks down at her blanket, tracing random patterns on it. She takes another deep breath. “It was really hard without you.” She says softly. It still feels weak and surrendering to admit vulnerability.

Steve’s heart breaks for her. He scoots a little closer to MJ, his voice equally quiet, matching hers. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t throwing up or feverish or anything, which was good, I guess. But I was just so sore all the time… and like, it hurt. My body hurt a lot. My muscles were just… like on fire sometimes.” She sighs, still avoiding his gaze. “And sometimes I just couldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t as intense as when we were in the hospital, but it was still… so hard. Especially being alone.”

Steve reaches out to put his hand over hers, stilling her nervous movements. He touches her cheek with his hand, gently tilting her face up so that she’s looking at him. She doesn’t look as tired and sickly as she had before, thank god. But she looks a little sad. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“You couldn’t be anyway.” She smiles sadly at him. She closes her eyes against his hand as he caresses her cheek. She misses his comforting touch and his presence. “Like, two nights ago I just. I don’t know, my body spent all day aching and it hurt so much I could barely sleep that night. And I cried.” She shakes her head, mostly at herself, as if chastising herself for making such a big deal out of something so little. She looks back down again, fidgeting with a loose thread on her blanket. “I wanted to call you, but I didn’t want to bother you and it wasn’t super serious. And you couldn’t really do anything either-“

“MJ, you can ALWAYS call me.” Steve interjects. 

“-so I just. I ended up pretending that you were lying next to me and hugging me...” MJ says, lost in thought. Steve wordlessly shifts so that he’s next to her on the bed, instead of sitting in front of her, and wraps his arms around her. She closes her eyes again, leaning into him, enveloped in his warmth.

“I’m here now.”

“I know. Thank you.” She whispers, pressing herself against his chest.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, before MJ sighs and sits up, turning to face Steve again. His arms are still around her. “I have more things to say.” She’s not sure how to transition organically, she’s not used to telling Steve things like this. She’s actually not sure if there even is any way to organically transition between the things she wants to tell Steve today.

“Shoot.”

“Well… uh. I…” She’s not sure how to bring this up, suddenly at a loss for words. She pauses for a minute, gathering her thoughts. “You know how in the hospital I would get like… panicky sometimes?”

“You mean like have a panic attack?”

“Yeah. That. Well… I’ve been having them for kind of a long time.” She looks away from Steve, suddenly ashamed again. “And they, uh, picked up and got worse especially with…” She stops talking, letting the words hang in the air.

Steve knows what’s left unsaid. He squeezes her arm gently, letting her know.

“And… well. I’ve just. Been having them a lot, and they’ve been kind of hard to manage.” She says softly. “I used to uh… just sort of wait it out, but it wore me out.” She flashes back to the image of herself, curled in a back corner of their walk-in closet, staring at herself in the mirror, after Nick had first told her about Bella’s assault, shaking. Steve had come home just as she had calmed down, about to go on her walk (and meet her dealer…). He seemed to have sensed she was not doing super great, but she ducked around it.

“You don’t need to hide those from me.” Steve says gently. “I want you to know that. You didn’t need to, and you still do not.” MJ squeezes his arm gratefully. “I want to help you.”

“Lily gave me some techniques to, uh, calm down.” MJ continues, looking back up at Steve. “Like a bunch of breathing stuff and counting and all sorts of that thing.”

“I’ll ask her so I can know too.” Steve nods.

“You don’t need to-“ MJ starts to say automatically, before catching herself. “Okay, thank you.” MJ says, relieved that Steve doesn’t seem to be shocked or feeling burdened or thinking any less of her.

“Is it similar to the ones you had in the hospital?” Steve asks, curious. Those had been scary, but the nurses were there to help, and he had mostly attributed it to her detox. But of course, she would have them. It makes sense. She’d been traumatized…

MJ sighs, leaning back against her pillows, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I tend to get really short of breath and shaky, and I can’t move, even if I want to. And sometimes I have a pain in my chest that won’t go away for a long time after.”

Oh, so that’s why she was rubbing her chest that time when she called him in the middle of the night. Okay, good to know. He tries to think back to when she might have had them, when she might have hidden them. It’s all a blur. 

MJ rubs her arm unconsciously, biting her lip. She glances at Steve. She knows what she has to tell him next, and oh how she does not want to. It feels so deeply… wrong. To even think— She stops herself, knowing she has to just say it now.

“So that kind of leads me to… my next thing.” 

Steve turns his attention back to her, noting that she suddenly looks… a mixture of scared and embarrassed. She wraps her arms around herself, kind of shrinking away from him, and stares back down at the duvet cover. She doesn’t say a word, lost in thought again. Steve waits for a moment to see if she comes back, before realizing MJ is not going to say anything.

“MJ?”

“Hm?” MJ is distant. 

“You had something to tell me?” Steve presses her gently.

MJ closes her eyes, trying to steel herself for this moment. She takes a deep breath.

“Remember that dream I had… I think I told you about it when I called you at like 2am — sorry about that, by the way.”

Ah, yes. That dream. “No need to apologize.”

“I was…” She starts, before stopping herself. It’s too shameful to tell Steve. Too much. She just can’t. “Never mind.” She bites her lip again, and tries to get up from the bed, but her legs feel like lead. She can’t bring herself to tell him, but she also TOLD Lily she’d tell him, and not telling him also doesn’t feel right. She feels sick in her stomach all over again. “It’s fine.”

“It’s obviously not fine.” Steve says gently; he keeps his distance though, noting that she clearly does not feel like being touched. “If you’re comfortable telling me, I really would like to know.”

“It’s so bad.” She whispers, staring at him fearfully. “You might hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Oh, but you just might.”

“I won’t.” Steve says resolutely.

MJ looks away from him, focusing on a blank spot on her wall. She pulls her knees to her chest, hugging them with one arm, as she fidgets with a loose thread in her sock. Steve sits opposite, waiting patiently. She takes a breath, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “I was… having this dream where I- basically it just-“ She stops, closing her eyes for a moment, before continuing. “It happens all over again.”

“Ah.” Steve says, to let her know he heard her, thinking this is it. Of course that would be traumatic and panic-inducing. 

“No, there’s more. It gets worse.” She frowns at herself, biting her lip again. “You know how Nick- uh- well, you know with the Bella thing- he didn’t- uh-“ She’s not sure how to say this out loud. How much does Steve know?

“I know what he did.” Steve says quietly. Nick had told him, when the police had called again, asking to speak to him, and they had a long discussion ending in Nick deciding to go to the station. “And I know that he told you.” And he also knew that MJ had originally told Nick not to talk to the police, but he left that unsaid. 

“Well, this dream I had- I’ve had it before. But when you guys came for New Years, and he came to hug me, I just- I felt so- I couldn’t- I didn’t want him to hug me.” She stops, suddenly feeling a little bit winded from saying that out loud to Steve. Her heart is beating a little quickly, but nothing unmanageable. The immense weight of deep shame sits uncomfortably on her shoulders. “i still love him, though.”

“I know.” Steve nods.

“And then- and then that night, in the dream, Nick was just-“ She stops again, having trouble finding the words. This is THEIR son, for God’s sake. “I’m so ashamed of this even entering my subconscious.” Her cheeks are flushing pink. Steve can sort of guess what she might be imagining, but he wants her to confirm it. It is a pretty awful thought.

“He- he was just standing there.” MJ says, looking absolutely horrified with herself. “And he was just- he was- he didn’t do anything.” She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.” She says, looking up at him. “I don’t- I didn’t- I still love him, so much, but I’m just- I-“ She can’t finish her sentence. The unspoken ends of her sentence hang in the air, as Steve starts to process what she’s saying, what she’s admitting to. 

“It’s okay.” Steve says carefully, quietly. It isn’t, but it is. It makes sense, and it sucks that it makes sense.

“It’s really not… I woke up so panicked and so scared, I- someone had to- someone had to calm me down.” She keeps her gaze fixed on the blank spot on the wall, fidgeting with her sock thread again. “I still love him so much, he’s my son, and he really has never let us down, but the fact that I even- I mean, I can’t figure out what I think- I mean. I’m already a goddamn mess with THIS-“ She gestures to the room, indicating the rehab center. “-and then there’s this whole… “thing” happening in my dreams- what kind of mother does that make me?”

She chances a glance at Steve, expecting to see shock and disgust in his eyes. His expression is soft, gentle, understanding, and she almost wishes it isn’t — this somehow feels worse. She gets up from the bed and boils the water in the kettle again for her tea, it having sat for too long. Partially because she fucking needs a cup of tea, and also partially so that she doesn’t have to look at Steve anymore.

“MJ, you’re a great mom.” Steve says softly. “This would be a complicated and hard situation for anyone to deal with. It sucks, I know, and it is hard to make sense of in your head, I’m sure, but you’re still a good mom.”

“What kind of mom can’t even get a hug from her own son…” She says, more to herself than to Steve. God, truly, WHAT kind of mother does this make her? Her greatest insecurities all lie around that, and every passing day seems to be evidence that she is, in fact, a horrible mother. 

“You can work on that. Take it a day at a time, sweetheart.” He says gently. She can feel him come up behind her, but doesn’t turn around. “Can I give you a hug?”

MJ pauses for a bit, before nodding, walking into his embrace. He hugs her tightly, and she is reluctant to return it at first, feeling undeserving, before giving in to her need for a hug. She hears the kettle click, indicating that the water has boiled, and pulls away from Steve, squeezing his arm as a thank you. Steve watches as she pours herself some tea, takes a sip, and then sets the cup down.

“Have you thought about maybe whether you’d want to talk to Nick about this?”

MJ sighs, rubbing her face with her hands. “Yeah, Lily said I should but I just- I can’t do that yet.”

“Okay. I agree with Lily.” Steve says. “But, when you’re ready.”

“I don’t know if I ever will be ready.” MJ says, her face in her hands.

“Well, more ready than you are now.” Steve reaches across the table and takes her hand, squeezing it. 

MJ looks at him sadly. “I’m sorry, I’m truly such a mess. You must be so ashamed.”

“No, no-“

“It’s okay if you’re ashamed, I know I am.” MJ bites her lip.

“I’m mostly ashamed that I didn’t notice anything.” Steve replies. “Like, what kind of husband does that make me, that I didn’t know all of this?”

“My husband, because I didn’t tell you anything.” MJ says, a small smile playing at her lips.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, allowing the tense subject to pass, before Steve asks: “Do you want to go for a walk outside? I want to see what the gardens are like. I know it’s the dead of winter, but still.”

“Oh, yes. Please.” MJ smiles at him, genuinely now. They get up, grab their coats and leave MJ’s room, walking through the hall arm in arm. They check in with the staff before going outside.

MJ suddenly realizes she hadn’t been outside since she’d arrived at the center. The cold air feels good, and the garden is simple but pretty. There are a few trellises, with twisting branches, a few winter-flowering plants, and a small empty fountain in the middle, while a few wooden benches line the edges.

“This feels great.” She takes a deep breath, sighing as the fresh air fills her lungs. She keeps her arm around Steve.

“This reminds me of that place in Italy we visited on our honeymoon. Except it wasn’t the dead of winter. Remember?”

“Yeah, that was such a cute place. And we had the best breakfast there.” She closes her eyes, going back to the happy memory. They had stumbled across the small garden restaurant just by chance, having intended to go to another restaurant that was recommended by Steve’s parents, but getting lost and eating there instead.

“We should go back. Bring the kids with us.” 

“That’d be nice.”

They walk around in aimless circles, MJ clutching Steve’s arm, before MJ breaks away, walking a little faster towards one of the trellises. “There’s something written there-“ MJ stands under the trellis, reaching up to move a branch to see what it says.. She reads it out loud. “‘This shit is hard.’ Haha, they’re absolutely right.” MJ laughs, for what Steve thinks might be the first time he’s heard a genuine laugh from her in a long time.

He stares at her. She looks beautiful, standing there in her coat, her cheeks a little rosy from the cold air. He’s reminded so much of the MJ he fell in love with, and he feels his heart skip a beat. He simply cannot imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone else.

“What?” She asks, blushing a bit under his gaze, as he walks towards her, wrapping her up in his arms. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you don’t, haha.” He chuckles, as she tries to wipe whatever phantom thing she thinks is on her face. “I love you.” He says, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear affectionately.

She smiles at him. “I love you, too.” Suddenly Steve feels his stomach lurch a little. He bites his lip and turns away. “Wait, is something wrong?” She reaches up to gently turn his face back towards hers.

“That’s- the first you’ve said it back in a really long time.” He says quietly.

Oh.

She wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with her thumb, before pressing her hand against his chest, feeling his heart beating.

“Well, I mean it. I really do.” She says quietly, speaking more to his chest than to him. He hugs her tightly.

“I was so scared I was gonna lose you.” She says nothing. “I was so scared- I didn’t want a repeat of-“ She tenses, and she suddenly wants to fold up and disappear again. He can feel her reaction and takes a deep breath, calming himself, but still holds her tightly. “You are allowed to ask for help. You can be imperfect.”

“I know.” She whispers. Her mind threatens to wander again, but she shakes her head, as if trying to clear the bad images out of her brain. She turns to start walking back inside, but he pulls her in towards him again.

“Don’t leave again. Please.” He whispers against her hair. And she knows he isn’t just talking about their hug. She stays wrapped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his coat, standing under the “This shit is hard” trellis.

“I don’t want to.” She says softly.

“Okay good. Because I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	11. Shiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie and MJ spend the day together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm normally not a huge songfic person but I couldn't help but be inspired by Sara Bareilles's song "Shiny" which she wrote about her mom. Anyway please enjoy, a very late Mother's Day present.

_Once in a while I catch a glimpse_   
_Of the truest things that she keeps hidden_   
_Her secret heart, that's my favorite part_

_I see what she can't see_   
_Her light only ever landing on me_

~

MJ blinks awake a few minutes before her alarm goes off, nervous yet extremely excited about today. She’d been wanting to do this for a really long time.

Frankie’s coming today. Just Frankie.

She wanted to spend quality time with both of her kids, each of them alone. But Frankie is truthfully the kid she feels more comfortable in front of at the moment. And, also the one whose relationship she feels like she wrecked the most.

She misses her kids like CRAZY. She misses being their mom, being able to see them every day, being able to watch them grow in front of her into adult people. She misses doing their laundry, she misses making them dinner, she even misses nagging them to do things she asks and them not listening. She misses _feeling_ like a mom.

But, truth be told, MJ hadn’t really been emotionally or mentally ready to spend an extensive amount of time with them. Keystone allowed for kids to visit every Saturday, but they haven’t come for the past two Saturdays — one had been exchanged for New Years Eve, and the other… she was too worn out. She called them several times a week, yes, but beyond that, she’s not sure she had the capacity to really be their mom yet. And, ideally, she doesn’t want them to see her in her current, non-mom state. It still makes her uneasy to not be 100% mom in front of them, even though they have now officially seen her at her ‘worst’…

At any rate, MJ had decided it was time for her to get her act together and start to be a mom again. She told Steve that she’d wanted to spend the day with Frankie, alone, and get to work on trying to redeem herself. That is, if Frankie was okay with it. She’s not sure if Frankie was actually okay with it, or if Steve would coerce Frankie into coming, but regardless, Frankie was coming today. Lunch together, and maybe dinner, if they were both feeling up to it.

She spends a long time picking out an outfit, trying out different looks with the limited options she has. She’s not sure why, she’s not going to be leaving the center at all, no one expects her to be looking spectacular, and Frankie has never thought she had good style… but she just didn’t want to be in sweats and a sweatshirt in front of her. Feels… lazy. She ultimately decides on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that Frankie had tie-dyed for her in school for Mother’s Day when she was seven.

She stares at herself in the mirror, assessing. She does this often, sort of a way to take stock of her progress at the center. She used to do this a lot at home prior to her overdose, which led to all sorts of spiraling, about her body, about her face, about her look, and whatever all that bullshit implied. Lily had challenged her to not to think negatively every time she looked in a mirror, which is hard… but to instead think about three things that are positive every time.

And so… One- the weight she’s lost during her detox is coming back, slowly, but steadily, and her cheeks look less pinched; she looks less sickly, less fragile. She used to berate herself for gaining weight — she hated how chubby she felt. But now she is starting to value the added weight, having come to understand how unhealthy it had been for her. Two- the bags under her eyes are not as pronounced, and she does not look as tired, despite still feeling emotionally and physically exhausted most of the time. Three- she can’t seem to think of a genuine third, except perhaps that she’s not absolutely HATING how she looks today. She feels okay.

She does a once over of her room, wanting it to be clean for Frankie. Of course, Frankie would think it’s clean already, given how she treats her room, she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes… and then MJ half smiles to herself; _there’s_ the mom in her.

She takes a deep breath before opening the door to go meet Frankie, feeling a bit better, more excited, but also more anxious.

MJ gets to spend time with her daughter today.  
~

Frankie doesn’t know how exactly today will go. She sits anxiously in the passenger seat as Steve drives her to the center, fiddling with the straps of her bag. She had packed a box of Betty Crocker brownie mix — she and Steve had called ahead of time to double check that it was allowed — and her poetry notebook.

When Steve had told her that MJ wanted to spend the day with her, alone, she freaked out a little bit:

“She wants to spend time with me? Alone? What about Nick?! What about YOU?”

“She wants to see YOU, Frankie.” Steve had replied.

“What am I supposed to do with her?” Frankie remembers feeling bad at how she had phrased the question, but the words were out already.  
“Whatever you want. Tell her about what you have planned for the semester. What you’re learning in school. About your writing.”

“A whole day?” She remembers feeling so bad that she sounds so reluctant, but she’s scared. She already was feeling so distant from her mom and unsure of how to talk to her, and then this whole overdose thing happened so she’s even MORE uncertain... and now she wouldn’t have the buffer of anyone else. It’d just be her and her mom. Just Frankie and MJ. When was the last time it had been like that, just the two of them, without dissolving into a screaming match between the two of them?

“You can bring a game or an activity if you want.”

Frankie didn’t know if she had a choice in the matter. It didn’t seem like she did… plus she’d feel _terrible_ not going. Like, how shit of a daughter would she be then?

So that morning she woke up much earlier than usual, mostly due to nerves, and spent a long time trying to figure out what to wear. Her usual style was never something her mom seemed to approve of, so she opted for something a little more muted, a little more reserved. Something that MJ wouldn’t pick on. Although she’s not even sure MJ would pick on her if she wore something provocative given her current state… regardless, she’s still a little frightened of this New MJ, so she opts not to provoke her with anything revealing or short. She settled for an old school sweatshirt and black leggings.

Grandma was still staying over, helping them out, and so she had cooked them a hearty breakfast. But Frankie could barely keep it down, she was so nervous, giving up eating halfway through. She paced most of the morning, much to her grandmother’s annoyance, and then suddenly Steve said they were leaving in ten minutes.

“You’ll be fine.” Steve says into the silence, reaching over to still her hands gently. Frankie looks down at her bag and realizes she’s completely pulled a thread loose on the strap.

“I know, I’m just… nervous.”

“I know. It’ll be fine, I promise.” Steve squeezes her hand as they pull into the parking lot. He drops Frankie off at the front. “Text me half an hour before you think you’ll leave, okay? I’ll be around at like 3 or 4, otherwise.”  
“Okay.”

“Go in through the front and follow the signs, like when we came for New Years.”

“Okay.”

“Have fun.”

Frankie looks at him, a little scared, but nods before closing the door. She walks through the entrance and follows the signs, like Steve says.

When she walks through the door and sees MJ standing by the check-in desk, a cup of tea in her hands, Frankie swears she has never seen MJ’s face light up like that in a very long time. When’s the last time she saw her mom beaming like that? She doesn’t remember.

“Frankie!” MJ exclaims warmly, wrapping her daughter up in a hug. Frankie hugs her. back. Suddenly, an unexpected emotion washes over her and she doesn’t want to let go, squeezing her mom tighter.

MJ feels her breath catch in her throat when she feels Frankie tighten her grip. They stand in the waiting room, hugging each other. “It’s good to see you.” She says softly, pulling away for a moment to look at Frankie’s face. Frankie looks like she might cry, but she doesn’t.

“It’s good to see you too.” Frankie keeps her arm around her mom as they walk out to the hallway.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as they walk towards MJ’s room together, the distance that has long festered between them obvious. They both don’t know what to say, and both keep awkwardly stealing glances at the other before looking away. When was the last time they’d “hung out” like this together? Neither really knows how to do this.

“Do you want some tea or something?” MJ asks, closing her door behind her. Making tea has become her go-to distraction.

“Sure.” Frankie nods.

MJ bites her lip as she fills the kettle, suddenly nervous that she’s done the wrong thing for the five hundredth time in Frankie’s life, asking Frankie to come here by herself. Had she ruined their relationship to the extent that they can’t even make small talk to one another?

Unbeknownst to her, Frankie is feeling the same. She had spent so much time resenting her mom, projecting so much negativity onto her, wishing she could just catch a fucking break, and then MJ almost died and now Frankie wants nothing more than to hold onto her forever. She’s haunted by the fact that it was possible that the last thing she had ever said to her mom was basically that she wishes MJ had never adopted her, had never been her mom. But she cannot imagine MJ not in her life, and now that she’s being forced to for MJ’s 90 days of rehab, she needs a mom—HER mom—more than ever. MJ is her mom, and she wants MJ to keep being her mom for as long as they’re both alive. Frankie wants to do this RIGHT this time. But what IS right?

And so Frankie says what she’s wanted to say for weeks now, having not really had the chance to. “I’m sorry, mom.”

“Whatever for?” MJ asks, incredulous, turning around to face Frankie.

“That I… that I- I messed things up. Like… I just- this-“ Frankie pauses, taking a breath. “That day you- well, right before- when I-… I- I really wish I hadn’t said that.”

“Frankie-“ MJ moves to sit next to her. “We don’t need to-“

“Wait, mom, let me finish. Please.” Frankie pleads, interrupting, holding onto MJ’s hands. “When Nick texted me, when I came to the hospital… I was so scared. I was so scared that you were going to die, and I was so scared that the last thing I told you was that-“ Frankie takes a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the tears threatening to fall, avoiding looking at MJ. “I just- I was angry, I was frustrated, I wasn’t thinking properly, I didn’t think about what my words meant. I just- didn’t think, I was being so stupid. And well- this whole thing- really made me realize that-“ Frankie looks back up at her mom, and is surprised to see MJ crying. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I said what I said.” She says softly, squeezing MJ’s hands. “These past few weeks with you gone-“ Her breath catches in her throat. “I _need_ you in my life, mom.”

Hearing those words mean more to MJ than Frankie would ever know. The words cut deep into her psyche, cutting deep into her insecurities about motherhood. Her worsening relationship with Frankie is definitely something that contributed to her shame spiral, as she called it, and it haunted her. While she would never fault Frankie with what happened — the overdose was her inability to cope with her own feelings and her inability to recognize she needed help — hearing Frankie apologize and tell her, straight out, that she wants MJ to continue being her mother…

MJ scoots her chair closer to Frankie and wraps her up in a hug, as Frankie starts to cry. Frankie buries her face in her mom’s shoulder, clutching her tightly. “Oh Frankie, I’m so sorry.” MJ whispers, stroking her head. “I love you, so much.” The two sit in silence for a while as Frankie regains control of herself, calming down. Frankie pulls away to catch her breath, and MJ tenderly wipes a tear away from Frankie’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, mom. Again.” Frankie says quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Frankie.” MJ says. “And I’m sorry too.”

“Mom-“ But MJ shushes Frankie.

“I’m sorry I scared you so badly, that I put you through this. That I’m putting the whole family through this.” MJ stops, taking a deep breath. “It kind of started with my accident, you know, and then it got snowballed from there and by the time I realized what was happening I was pretty far gone.” She looks away from Frankie, not wanting to meet her eyes. “You must be so disappointed in me.”

“No, not at all.” Frankie squeezes MJ’s hand gently, reassuring her. “I’m just… sorry I didn’t even pay attention to what was happening.”

“I didn’t make it easy for anyone, especially you guys.” MJ pauses, choosing her words carefully. She’s not quite ready to tell Frankie what happened, but she doesn’t want to pretend that it didn’t happen either; she settles for vague. “I was in a very very dark place for a while and I’m sorry for the ways that it affected you.”

Frankie makes a mental note of ‘very very dark place’ and to ask about it later. Perhaps when her mom is not in rehab.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get my head out of my own ass for long enough to ask for help.” MJ laughs dryly, glancing at Frankie.

“I’m glad you’ve got it now, though.” Frankie squeezes MJ’s hand gently.

“Me too.”

They sit in a comfortable quiet for a while, listening to the hum of the radiator, before Frankie breaks the silence. “Do you want to make brownies? I brought some mix.”

“Sure. Absolutely.” MJ says, smiling, getting up from the table. As Frankie grabs the box from her bag, MJ feels a weight lifted off her shoulders. Maybe this can work out, maybe she can repair this relationship. Maybe she and Frankie and go back to what they were like when Frankie was young — or even better than that. The thought warms her heart and her chest, and she feels a little lighter, a little more hopeful. It’s the happiest she’s felt in a while.

As they gather the ingredients into a bowl and mix the batter, MJ starts to ask Frankie about how she’s doing and school, making small talk.

Frankie watches MJ carefully as they bake and chat, watching her expertly fold the ingredients in and mix the batter, barely even paying attention to what she’s doing, she knows the steps so well.

MJ is doing so much better since the past two times she’s seen her since she overdosed — well, of course. The first time Frankie had come, MJ had been bedridden, and the second time she’d only been in rehab for a week. But still, MJ is doing so much better. She looks fresher, more present than she has been before, even from before the overdose. MJ seems to be genuinely interested in what she has to say, genuinely wanting to repair their relationship. She smiles more. She’s getting better at sharing her feelings, today already a huge indicator. The warmth and love that Frankie used to feel when she spent time with MJ when she was young is coming back.

Frankie can’t help but feel so lucky that her mom is so incredibly strong. She has so much left to learn from her. And she doesn’t want it any other way.

~

_All that glitters isn't gold, but gold is all I see_   
_So I know we can both be shiny_


	12. Someone Who Loves Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ has an important conversation with Lily, and Steve witnesses a panic attack :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes this is inspired by yet another Sara Bareilles song!) TW mentions of sexual assault / panic attack

“I need to tell Frankie and Nick about what happened in college.” MJ says, a tone of urgency in her voice, starting her session with Lily the following Monday. “I just- I need to tell them, but I don’t know how.”

“Good afternoon to you too, MJ.” Lily replies, a little amused at how eager MJ is to talk about this; a huge change from when she first started at Keystone. “What spurred this on?”

“Frankie visited this weekend.”

“How was it?”

“Oh, really good.” MJ smiles to herself. “It was nice to spend time with her. We hadn’t in a while.”

“That’s good.”

MJ is silent, thinking back to two days ago when Frankie had visited. It had gone so well. She felt lighter, especially after she and Frankie had that heart to heart in the beginning. They baked brownies, Frankie shared some of her poems, they walked outside in the garden. MJ let Frankie do her hair, like she used to when Frankie was 6 years old. It felt like old times again, and left MJ feeling warm and hopeful.

MJ shakes her head, getting back to the matter at hand. “Anyway, I just- I didn’t tell her, I don’t think I’m ready yet, but I did allude to it. And I know I need to tell Nick too, but I don’t feel ready to do that either. I- I want to figure out how to tell them, and, um, work on that.”

“I’d say that’s a pretty clear goal for today.” Lily says, smiling. MJ is playing a more active role in her recovery, which is always an improvement.

“I need help.” MJ says, evidently determined to figure this thing out. “Like, advice on how to go about it. I just don’t know how to approach the topic, and how much to tell them, and how they might react, and what they’ll think of me afterwards…” MJ starts to lose a little steam, drifting into her own thoughts.

She actually hadn’t spent that much time thinking about what her kids would think, until right about now, when she brought it up. While she doesn’t think they’d not believe her — thank GOD — she does wonder how they’d handle it. How their perception of her would change, whether they’d treat her differently as a result. Especially with Nick, given his actions when the same thing happened with Bella… or lack thereof. What would he end up thinking?

“You’re definitely right to think about this ahead of time and try to plan it out.” Lily assures her gently, pulling her back into the present. “I think you need to first figure out how much you want them to know. Do you want them to know the whole story? Or do you want to keep it simpler, save them the details?”

Hm. She’s not sure. MJ is still getting used to the idea of telling the story as a complete whole- picking and choosing parts to tell doesn’t even cross her mind. She sits back against the couch, leaning against the pillows, pensive. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense...”

“Second, I think you should think about why you want to tell them and keep those reasons in mind when you do, because the reasons are likely very different, and may also influence how much you tell them. Why are you telling Nick, vs why are you telling Frankie?”

“Do you want me to answer that now?” MJ leans forward again.

“If you want to. Or, if you need more time to think about it-“

“No, I think I want to talk it through now.”

“Alright.” Lily nods, gesturing for her to continue. Over the past few days she’s realized that MJ actually enjoys talking through her feelings, it helps her think more clearly. MJ had kept everything bottled up for so long, and now she seemed to realize how much more free and light this made her feel. Lily is impressed with how much MJ has progressed.

“I think I need to tell Nick because-“ MJ pauses, taking a deep breath, settling her nerves. Whenever she’s thinking about Nick, she thinks about that dream again, and her heart beats a little quicker and her cheeks flush a little redder, that mixture of fear and shame still haunting her. “Because, well, I need him to know so that… we can figure it out together.” MJ finishes lamely. “I’m not sure those are the words I was looking for…”

“That makes sense.” Lily says gently. “I would prioritize telling Nick. And definitely tell Nick about your dream when you tell him.”

“Are you sure?” MJ says doubtfully. “Can’t I just… not tell him…” MJ already knows the answer, but she so doesn’t want to tell him about her dream. “It was mortifying enough to tell Steve…”

“MJ-“

“I know, I know.” MJ interrupts, smiling wearily at Lily. “I know I need to tell him.” MJ starts to fidget with the hem of her shirt. “I know it’s a major thing directly affecting my relationship with him...“

“But you can tell him on your own time though. When you’re ready.” Lily reassures her.

“How will I know?”

“You’ll feel it.” Lily says vaguely.

MJ sighs. She knows Lily is probably right, but a more direct answer would have been nice. She takes another breath. “And I guess I want to tell Frankie because I want to be honest with her. I feel like I’ve done her so much wrong and spent so much time trying to have her fit this particular image I have...”

“I think many moms feel that way.” Lily chuckles. MJ nods, giving Lily a nervous smile. HER mom definitely wanted her to fit a particular image...

“I also think...” MJ says carefully, some stray thoughts finally clicking into place. “I also think that... I think my assault-“ She pauses briefly- she’s trying to get better at calling it that. “I think it was a big reason why I felt such an intense need to protect her and have always been so scared for her, especially as she’s grown older.”

“That makes sense.” Lily nods, encouraging her to go on.

“And, the- the thing for me that made me so scared when I did learn that Frankie had sex with that boy, and she knew him, and-“ She stops, getting a little bit ahead of herself. Frankie and Phoenix DID seem like they had consensual sex upon further reflection, but that didn’t stop MJ from projecting onto her in the moment. Especially coming from that couples therapy session where they talked however briefly about the sexual assault she was so convinced she was done with.

“I understand that.” Lily says quietly.

“I didn’t want her to go through what I went through.” She looks at Lily. “I know I made so many mistakes as her mother, but... maybe she can understand...” Even then, she’s not sure Frankie would. She’s not sure ANYONE would, anyone who hasn’t been through an assault and then had to watch their daughter grow into a young woman... that fear will never leave her, will never leave the pit in her stomach.

“It’s a valid concern.” Lily assures her. “But I think keeping your conversation with Frankie as open as you can make it will benefit both of you.”

“Yeah...” She bites her lip and smiles slightly to herself, again remembering when Frankie visited that weekend. It WAS good. And open. And she felt like they were healing.

“Something to note, though. When you get around to telling them, just be aware that they might not be too sure of how to react. They might get pretty upset, because it’s hard to hear about your mom getting hurt like that.” Lily says softly, calling her back to the present.

Oh. She never thought about that. And suddenly she doesn’t want to tell them anymore, for fear of traumatizing them. Lily can see her backtracking in front of her very eyes. “I don’t want to traumatize my kids all over again.” MJ whispers, half horrified. “I don’t need more of a reason to be a terrible mother.” MJ says the last part more to herself than to Lily.

“Why would they think that?” Lily presses.

“Well- they’ll think I’m an idiot for putting myself in that situation... stupid and weak because I couldn’t protect myself even as a young adult... they won’t see me as a good mom-“

“Your kids won’t think any less of you when they learn of what’s happened.” Lily says gently, interrupting. “You’re not weak because it happened. You’re strong for surviving it, and living with it.”

MJ worries her lower lip, still unconvinced, staring at the floor. “What if they don’t see it like that. What if they just think I’m weak...”

“I think you need to trust Nick and Frankie. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like they’d support you and hold you up.”

MJ nods, something heavy now sitting in her chest. She knows she still has to tell them, but the fervor she’d felt before is replaced with a fear of their changing opinion, how they won’t treat her like their mom anymore, but rather a victim. Or someone so stupid they don’t respect her. She tries to internalize what Lily says, but it’s not happening. It’s too difficult.

Lily leans forward, speaking her words softly yet very clearly. She can see MJ’s thoughts spiraling down. “You’ve been carrying this around for so long, MJ. It’s time to let others help you carry it. And I think you’ve raised your kids such that they can and they will. And love you through it.”

MJ quickly brushes a tear from the corner of her eye, and gives Lily a small smile. A small part of her believes Lily’s words.

~

When Steve arrives for his now-regular Friday evening visit that week, he notices MJ seems a little on edge. While of course she’s thrilled to see him, she seems… off. From her lukewarm greeting to her distant look, something is wrong…

Steve’s arm is around her waist as they walk through the hallways to the outdoor garden, a new ritual they’ve decided to adapt before they go back to MJ’s room and talk, cook, relax, etc. MJ realizes how much she loves the fresh air, how good it makes her feel. And it’s a nice little low stakes romantic thing they can do every time he visits.

He’s filling her in on the kids’ week at school when he notices she’s not really listening. “Are you okay?” Steve asks gently.

“What? Yeah. I’m fine.” MJ says distractedly.

She’s been thinking all day about her group therapy session from that morning. One of them had witnessed her friend’s overdose, which had then inspired her to go into rehab. But she described it in such excruciating detail and the images keep haunting her, keep coming back. She barely remembers what happened during her own overdose, but hearing the intricacies of how someone else reacted of course made her project them onto herself. To imagine her body responding to the medication she had so trusted and depended on in such a visceral, demonic kind of way…

MJ shakes her head, trying to get it out of her head. Steve feels her shake a little bit, and tightens his arm around her waist. She presses herself into him, needing to feel his warmth, still feeling deeply unsettled. She tries to focus on his voice, telling him about their kids, something she’s genuinely interested in, but she can’t. Her mind keeps wandering.

Steve is getting more animated, talking about something Frankie and her grandma had baked that tasted amazing, and that MJ has to try it, maybe they’ll bring her some next time they come. Just as they’re rounding a corner to the garden, the woman who had told the story passes by with her daughter, on their way to dinner. She waves at MJ, who waves back out of instinct. But suddenly MJ feels her chest constrict uncomfortably and she has to stop walking, leaning against the wall for support. She can feel her panic attack hitting her at full speed, leaving little warning. Fuck.

“MJ?” Steve asks, taken aback.

She tries to keep her breathing even and slow like Lily said, but it’s not happening. Her breathing gets quicker and quicker until her vision starts to blur, and she can feel herself shaking uncontrollably, clutching her chest.

“MJ, sweetie, take a breath.” Steve says.

Even if MJ wanted to speak, she couldn’t; she’s having so much trouble getting air into her lungs. Steve reaches out to try and help steady her, but she’s shaking so violently he’s having trouble grasping onto her, not wanting to hurt her.

“Like this. Watch me.” Steve inhales and exhales slowly, demonstrating, hoping to help.

It does not. MJ is hyperventilating now, shaking against the wall. Her knees give out but Steve catches her just in time, narrowly preventing her from collapsing to the ground. He holds her up, looking more and more worried the longer this goes on.

Her head is throbbing, her muscles already fatigued, and her chest is starting to burn and sting with how shallow her breathing is.

“Maybe we could go get you some water?” Steve asks helplessly. MJ is still unresponsive and shaking in his arms, but now she’s starting to whimper and cry, the pain in her chest overwhelming.

Steve looks around frantically, looking for someone to help. He spies a staff member down the hall and calls out to her. “My wife needs help! She’s-“ He’s not sure how to describe what’s happening. But she’s already walking towards them rapidly. It’s Jessica.

“Thank you.” Steve says gratefully as Jessica approaches, still holding onto MJ, who’s clinging to him tightly, trying to stay standing as her panic attack overtakes her body.

“I think it will be more comfortable for MJ if you aren’t holding her up like that. And for you too.” Jessica says matter-of-factly. They both lower MJ to the ground gently and sit next to her, Steve still keeping his arm around her.

“Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine, as long as we can get her breathing under control.” Jessica says, rubbing MJ’s shoulder. “MJ, I want you to look at me if you can, okay? Let’s try to take some deep breaths.” Steve notices her tone shifts to low and quiet, a soothing, calm voice. Steve attempts to help, rubbing her back gently.

“It just— she started acting like this out of nowhere.” Steve says weakly. He’s growing more concerned by the second.

“Yeah, that can happen, unfortunately.” Jessica says sympathetically. “MJ, on three, we’ll take a deep breath okay? One, two, three-“ Jessica and Steve both take a deep breath.

MJ tries, but she can’t. She hiccups and coughs, and then she starts to cry again, her breathing still erratic. Her chest burns and the tremors hurt, feeling as though they’re coming from deep within her body and radiating outwards.

“Okay, MJ, I know you like this one. 5 4 3 2 1. Can you look at Steve for me?” Jessica asks. MJ manages to do so, the panic in her eyes evident. It haunts him. “Now, Steve, this is definitely something you should know, a calming method she likes — this is called grounding. MJ, tell Steve five things you can see.” Jessica nods encouragingly.

MJ’s eyes dart around the hallway nervously, searching. “Bulletin board. Door. Fern. Window. Doormat.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, and she speaks in between shallow breaths. Steve is still rubbing her back, and she can feel her breathing start to calm.

“Okay, good. Tell Steve four things you can feel.”

MJ reaches her hand out. “Carpet. Denim. Your shirt. Your hand.” MJ moves to grip Steve’s hand. She’s shaking less, and her breathing is more regular, but she’s not quite there yet.

“Three things you can hear.”

MJ closes her eyes, still holding Steve’s hand tightly, trying to listen beyond her breathing.

“The wind. Footsteps. Someone talking.” MJ says quietly.

“Theoretically, Steve, you could stop there. She’s pretty calm now, but for good measure we should finish out the exercise.” Jessica nods supportively. “Alright, MJ, two things you can smell. And Steve, if she can’t place anything, she can always recall something she smelled earlier.”

“Steve. Cookies.”

Steve blushes a little.

“One thing you can taste.”

“Earl grey tea.”

“Good job, MJ.”

She nods, her eyes still closed, leaning against the wall and Steve. Her chest won’t stop hurting, more than usual, it seems, and she feels exhausted. And most of all, she feels embarrassed for having such a debilitating attack in front of Steve.

“Normally, we use grounding when someone is pretty far gone. That wasn’t the worst, but that was pretty bad. I know MJ has told us that she likes the concreteness of this exercise, so it’s definitely something to keep in mind.” Jessica says quietly, talking to Steve. “We have other methods too, but the important thing is to slow her body down, to help turn off her fight or flight response.”

“Thank you.” Steve says, genuinely appreciative.

“Alright, MJ, keep doing some deep breaths, okay? I’ll leave you with Steve.” Jessica smiles at them, before getting up and returning to her duties.

Steve adjusts himself so he too is leaning against the wall, his arm still wrapped around MJ. MJ is still clutching his hand, her vice-like grip surprising him, still taking her deep, calming breaths.

MJ whimpers softly and leans more heavily against Steve; her chest pain is still not letting up, and she still feels quite shaky and unsteady. She lets go of his hand, and rubs her chest slowly, attempting to soothe the tremors lingering there. It doesn’t help, and suddenly she’s overwhelmed by the pain and embarrassment of what just happened and sitting in the hallway she starts to cry quietly.

“Mary Jane…” Steve is so uncertain of the best way to comfort her. “Does it hurt? Tell me.” He brushes a strand of hair away from her eyes, trying to convey that he would do anything she needed right now. Actually, anything she needs right now, but also forever.

She nods, wiping tears from her eyes. “A lot.” She whispers.

“May I?” He asks, turning to face her. He gently nudges her hand away from her chest. MJ nods. She’s not sure what Steve could do that she hasn’t tried, but his touch is comforting and warm.

MJ watches as Steve touches her chest gently, rubbing in slow, gentle circles. It’s not an immediate effect, but Steve’s hand is, for some reason, more effective than her own. He somehow found just the right rhythm and pressure that gives her relief. She closes her eyes against his touch, biting her lip to keep from crying more.

“Does that help at all?” Steve asks softly.

“Yeah. It does.” MJ leans her head against Steve’s shoulder again, and he keeps rubbing her chest in smooth, even circles.

He’s not sure how long they sit like that for as he rubs her chest, but Steve can feel MJ’s shaking gradually subside.

MJ stills his hand. “We should probably get up from the floor.” MJ says, her voice a little hoarse. She holds his hand in hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his fingers. Steve helps her stand, and keeps his arm around her, supporting her. MJ is still unsteady on her feet, and the exhaustion of the panic attack has really taken a toll on her muscles, and all she wants to do is lie down.

“Do you still want to go outside?” Steve asks.

“No.” MJ shakes her head. “Can we just… go back to my room for now?” MJ says quietly.

“Of course.”

They make their way through the halls, Steve still keeping a protective arm around MJ, and supporting her. MJ feels lightheaded and dizzy, and her chest pain is still there, but reduced to a dull throb. A few minutes later, MJ is in her bed, snuggled up against Steve, staring listlessly into space.

Steve is quiet as he listens to MJ’s even breathing. He can tell she’s awake. Calm, exhausted, but still not all there. She shifts against him, pressing herself into his body.

He breaks the silence. “So... were you having panic attacks like that before too?”

MJ takes another deep breath before responding, her voice timid, ashamed, embarrassed, her cheeks burning. “Yes.” She knows she should have asked for help long before this happened, but she didn’t want to. Fooled herself into thinking she didn’t actually need it. But then she let it get out of hand, and now here she is, lying in a bed in a rehab center…

She turns to face Steve, burying her face in his chest. Her mind won’t stop wandering, she wishes she were better at keeping her mind blank.

Steve rubs her arm affectionately and kisses her forehead. MJ pulls back a little, looking at him. He hesitates, wondering if he should speak.

“What’s on your mind?” MJ says softly, as if reading his mind.

“I just- I don’t see how you could be going through THAT without me noticing. Like was I THAT focused on work?”

MJ chuckles humorlessly. “I hid it from you on purpose. I’m really-“

“You’re really good at hiding things.” Steve finishes her sentence, giving her a small smile. “You don’t have to hide this from me anymore, sweetie. Well, you never had to in the first place, but please. From now on.” He strokes her cheek.

“Yea, I know.” She says softly. She closes her eyes, keeping his hand on her cheek for a brief moment. Opening her eyes again, she sighs. “I was... embarrassed. It felt weak, and stupid. And not like a real problem.”

“We’ve gone over this-“ Steve starts to speak, before MJ shushes him.

“Yeah, I know, I’m not weak, it’s fine, et cetera et cetera.” The corners of her lips twitch slightly. “But that’s how I felt.”

“Do you feel that way now?” Steve asks.

MJ hesitates, taking stock of her current state. “Yes, and no.” She pauses, thoughtful. “Yes, because I don’t know if I will ever stop feeling that way. No, because I also feel relieved that at least now YOU know this happens.” She bites her lip, her voice lowering to a whisper. “That I don’t have to hide it anymore.” A beat. “Well, I’m not saying that I promise I won’t not hide it because I don’t know if I can unlearn feeling ashamed but like... I don’t know. Now I guess I won’t be scared that you’ll leave me when you see it happen.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” Steve says simply, giving her a warm smile. He wraps his arms around her more tightly, resting his head atop hers. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

MJ chuckles against his chest.

~

_I’m the worst I’ve ever been_   
_Afraid of almost everything_   
_The skies are clear but storms are always comin’_   
_Your gift to me_   
_Is just to be_   
_Bracing for the winds I always summon_   
_My home, my heart_   
_Thank god you are_   
_Someone who loves me…_


	13. A Way to Get My Hands Untied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ takes a nighttime stroll with a therapy dog and has another therapy session with Lily about Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curtis the therapy dog makes an appearance! TW for descriptions of sexual assault. 
> 
> s/o to my lovely friend on here mjhealy for helping me out with things I get stuck on

It becomes clear to MJ that speaking with Nick about her own experiences is something that needs to happen sooner rather than later.

She keeps worrying about it. It consumes her, it’s all she thinks about. What Nick did, how it makes her feel, when to tell Nick, how it will affect their relationship, what he’ll think of her… anything and everything.

And—no surprises here—when she goes to sleep one night, she has a dream about Nick. Again.

And here she is, all over again, lying on the bed, pinned to the bed, unable to get up, someone on top of her. Her vision swims in and out of focus as she tries to fight him, whoever he is. But he’s too strong. Grabbing her arm, he pins it down over her head. MJ begs him to stop, to get off her, to let her go. But her voice is caught somewhere in her throat, and no sound comes out. Only a whimper, which seems to feed his actions. 

The weight on her chest is getting heavier and heavier, and she’s finding it more and more difficult to breathe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows this is a dream, a nightmare—the feeling of déjà vu is pervasive. She turns to the door, watching the sliver of light from the hallway flicker as people walk back and forth, ignoring the closed door. If only she could scream, if only she could get someone’s attention, if only someone for some reason opened the door, she’d be fine. But as much as she wants to, she can’t scream; fear has paralyzed her and every sound she tries to make just… dissipates into thin air.

And then there’s a miracle, the door opens. And Nick is there. She turns, staring at him, fear wide in her eyes, as if silently begging him to help her, but he simply stands there, staring at her. “It’s me, Nick. Help me…” She tries to say, but she can only get as far as “It’s me” before her voice cracks and she can’t speak. He simply stands there, while the man on top of her is continuing to dig his weight into her, continuing to move his hands on her.  
And then she wakes up.

Well, her brain wakes up. She knows she’s having a dream, she knows she’s definitely in her own room at Keystone — a lamp is on, the furniture is the same — but she still can’t move. It’s as if her body is frozen in place — she can’t even move her fingers. It still FEELS like someone is pressing down on her chest, lying on top of her, making it hard for her to breathe. She tries to move her head to check, but cannot; her head is fixed in position, turned to face the door. Her anxiety starts to pick up. Is this happening again? In Keystone, in this supposedly protected, safe place? Who would it be? She racks her brain, but it doesn’t make sense.

But the fear is starting to overwhelm her, eat at her, attack her already fragile mental state. “Okay, MJ, think.” She tries to talk her brain through this. She can see the light from the hallway from the crack beneath the door. Logically, she knows no one here would be able to just… be on top of her like this. Someone would be patrolling the halls, and they have strict security measures in place — you cannot just randomly walk into Keystone. But surely it must be happening again, right? That’s why she had this dream, because it’s actually happening to her again?

Her anxiety is building, and she can feel her chest hurting — from the weight of the person on top of her, from the mounting fear and anxiety that it’s happening in present-day, from the anxiety-induced struggle to breathe. And she can’t even move her arm to relieve it. She genuinely cannot move any part of her body.

And then she notices Nick there too. Wait, what?

She screams.

Her body snaps out of it, no longer paralyzed, and she immediately sits up, breathing hard, her heart pounding. She flips on the main light and surveys her surroundings: there’s no one. Just her in her own room. It was all a dream, it was all a dream, it was all a dream. She repeats to herself, almost like a mantra. Nick isn’t here, no one is on top of her, it is NOT happening again. You’re okay, you’re fine.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.” She says shakily, trying to steady her breathing. She takes loud breaths, trying to calm herself down. She shakes herself out a little bit, regaining feeling in her body, regaining control of her body. It’s not working super well.

“It’s me, Jessica.” Jessica opens the door and sticks her head in. “I heard a scream, are you alright, MJ?”

“Yeah, I just… had this dream… and it was…” She shakes her head, not wanting to think about it anymore. “I think I need to walk a bit. May I? I know it’s-“ MJ glances at the clock. “12:10 am…” Her voice trails off, shaky. Has she only been asleep for two or so hours? 

“If you think that’ll help.” Jessica replies, still standing in her doorway. “You know the rules.” She makes a note on her clipboard as MJ pulls on her coat, shoves on a pair of shoes, and walks out the door. She starts pacing the hallway, trying to get the excess adrenaline out of her system, trying to calm down, trying not to think about it. But of course, it’s the only thing she’s thinking about.

What the fuck was that? That was so eerie and unnerving. Why couldn’t she move? What’s wrong with her body?

She must have looked extremely worried and stressed, because after a few minutes, Jessica approaches her gently. “MJ, do you want to walk Curtis?”

Curtis? Who’s Curtis?

“He needs to go on a walk, and he’s up right now. A little late, I know, but we were pretty busy tonight, and only had time to give him a short one. He should probably go out again.”

Oh right. The therapy dog.

She’s a little scared of dogs, to be honest, because some of her neighbors’ dogs had been quite aggressive when she was young, but Curtis is pretty gentle and tame. Plus, his job is to be a therapy dog, so he’s been appropriately trained. And you know what, maybe some fresh air would do her some good. Clear her mind. Help her sleep better. 

“Okay, sure.” MJ replies, her voice still trembling a little. Her heart thumps, still a little nervous at the thought of being with a dog for a prolonged period of time.

“Alright, come with me. You can just walk around in the little garden out there.”

MJ follows Jessica through the hallways to the staff room, where Curtis is sitting, waiting, wagging his tail. Jessica grabs the leash and puts it on his collar before handing the strap over to MJ.  
“You can loop around the garden a few times. He’s already gone to the bathroom so he should be fine, but if he goes again…“ Jessica gestures to the roll of poop bags hanging on the leash.

“Oh. And I just… pick it up afterwards?” 

Jessica nods, giving her a warm smile. “I’ve got to go back on my rounds, but I’ll let everyone know that you have the okay to be out.” She leaves.

Curtis stands next to MJ, waiting patiently by her side, but clearly eager to go out for a bit. He looks up at her, and, as if sensing she’s clearly still very wired and distressed, he rubs against her leg affectionately. 

“Oh-“ She says, a little surprised, and pets his head cautiously. He nuzzles his head against her hand. “Well, I guess we’ll… uh, go out.” She says to him, feeling a little stupid for talking to a dog.

She pushes open the door to the hallway and he walks alongside her, keeping with her pace, not trying to pull ahead or lag behind. She can still feel her heart pounding from her dream, but she can already feel herself slowly calming down, relaxing more. They begin to walk rapidly around the garden in silence, MJ alone with her thoughts, Curtis happily plodding along beside her.

Here she is in this position. All over again. And while her primary feeling is still fear, there’s a slight annoyance that she feels as though she can’t fucking handle herself. Why does her brain DO that to her? Obviously she needs to talk to Nick, so can her subconscious stop scaring the shit out of her like that? And also what the fuck was that thing where she couldn’t move while she was awake?

A vague definition of sleep paralysis floats into her brain, past the hazy mess, and suddenly it occurs to her that that must have been what happened. Oh thank god, that makes sense. As awful as it felt, it felt nice to understand a little bit of what might have happened.

She stops, closing her eyes, taking another calming breath. Curtis stops too, and looks up at her, as if trying to evaluate her state. “I’m fine.” She says. He looks at her, as if telling her he knows she’s not fine. “Okay, I’m not.” She sighs, giving him a shaky smile, and sits down on a bench. He sits too, next to her, resting his head on her lap.

She takes a few more deep breaths, feeling her body finally settle from her nightmare. Okay, she does feel calmer now. Walking helped. She even feels a little bit tired. Perhaps she could finally rest for a bit. She exhales loudly, Curtis looking up at her as she does, and she pets his head. He leans his head into her, nuzzling her side. Maybe there are some merits to a therapy animal. His presence is calming, reassuring. And she’s pretty sure she trusts him more than she trusts many other people right now.

MJ leans down to properly wrap her arms around him, enjoying the feeling of another warm body close to her. Curtis responds by licking her face. “Hey-“ She says softly, chuckling as she turns away from him, turning so that he’s licking her cheek. She sits back against the bench, tapping the spot next to her. Curtis obliges, sitting next to her and leaning against her. She wraps an arm around him.

She misses this kind of thing. She misses doing this kind of thing with Steve and her kids, hugging, cuddling, being affectionate in general. Sure, she is getting way more of it with Steve now, whenever he visits, but she’s starting to realize just how much she misses it with her kids especially. She misses their snuggles, their smiles, their laughs… the blanket forts and dance parties and games they used to play, the quality time they used to spend together, how much they used to depend on her… how much they still do depend on her, even if they don’t want to show it. She misses how they looked up at her, like she was the most important person in the world, like she could make anything happen for them. And she did her damndest to do that. And now...

She closes her eyes, taking a breath, the winter breeze washing over her, knocking some sense into her. She continues to pet Curtis next to her, while deep in thought.

I messed up.

She sighs, leaning her head on Curtis, who nuzzles her cheek again.

I messed up and I need to stay clean.

She stands, rubbing her eyes, now realizing how tired she is. Curtis stands up beside her.

I messed up, I need to stay clean, I need to take care of myself.

She decides to take one more lap around the garden. Halfway through, he stops, sniffing around. She stops at his cue, lost in thought, as he continues to sniff around.

I messed up, I need to stay clean, I need to take care of myself, I need to be honest with myself and my family… especially Nick.

Curtis gets into position.

I need to be a mom again.

MJ tugs at the leash, ready to go back inside, but when Curtis doesn’t move, she turns to look at him.

“Oh.” She chuckles to herself. “Right.” She takes a plastic bag from the roll attached to the leash and bends down, picking up his poop.

~

MJ sits with her head in her hands in Lily’s office, completely overwhelmed. “It just feels so fucked up that I keep dreaming about him, that he keeps appearing in my subconscious. I get so scared of him, and then when I wake up and realize what happened I feel absolutely terrible.” She moans. “I want to tell him, I know I have to tell him, I know it will all be much better once I tell him because we can… start to work through it together, but I just can’t.” She moans, rubbing her face. She stares at the floor, like she so often does during these sessions.

“Why are you so scared to tell Nick?” Lily asks gently.

“I think we’ve gone over this.” MJ says, a little bitterly. “I feel like a shitty mom.”

Lily looks at her, and MJ can feel her gaze burning into her skin. “We have.” Lily says simply. “But there can be many reasons for something.” 

There’s a heavy pause in the air as MJ tries to sort through her hundreds of tangled, messy thoughts. She sighs, closing her eyes, before forcing herself to meet Lily’s gaze. “The whole dream aside… the idea of telling both Nick and Frankie about what happened is so…” She fights to find the right words, taking a moment to stop and think, before speaking again, softly yet deliberately. “I’m supposed to be their mother. I’m supposed to be this great role model for Nick and Frankie, I’m supposed to help them and guide them and make them into good people.” She looks back at the ground. “I’ve already failed them so many times, now especially, since I’m sitting here in this rehab center and not at home with them, and…” Her voice trails off.

“And?” Lily presses.

“This is… I mean, what kid wants to know about... y’know… their mom’s sexual escapades. It kinda feels like… that’s not something they’d care to know a lot about, you know? Like this is just… intimate and personal and private... would you want about your mom’s sex life?”

“Okay, that’s a fair point, I would not, but MJ — you’re not talking about having sex, you’re talking about someone assaulting you.” MJ is quiet as the words sink in. “It’s not the same thing.” 

“Is it not…” MJ asks faintly, already knowing the answer. She opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it. She rubs her temple, a headache growing.

“It’s not.” Lily affirms gently. “There’s quite a big difference.”

MJ folds her arms across her chest, shrinking back in her seat, biting her lip nervously. Logically, yes, she knows it’s not.

Lily leans forward, speaking clearly and evenly. “I think your kids are old enough to know the difference. They know that you are human, and if you want to repair your relationships with them they need to realize that, as a human, you hurt too. And that’s okay.” Lily chuckles lightly. “Believe me, I know it’s weird to think of parents as people who can get hurt, but they are.”

MJ nods, still slumped back in her seat. She sighs heavily, closing her eyes. Her headache is worsening, but she wants to figure this shit out.

Lily sits up, putting her clipboard to the side. “Okay, how about we do this. Let’s plan out what you’re going to say to Nick and practice that, similar to what we did with Steve.” She pauses for a moment, thoughtful, before adding: “But keep in mind that, when you do tell Nick and Frankie this, you have to talk to them person to person, not parent to kid.” She leans forward again, trying to meet MJ’s eyes. “It’s okay to let them in.”

MJ takes a deep breath, and meets Lily’s gaze. “I’ve been thinking about what I want to say.”

“Okay, that’s good.” 

“I think…” MJ speaks carefully. “I think it makes sense for me to lead with talking about Bella, since that’s his base knowledge, and from there I’d tell him the story, then transition into the drugs part and then…” MJ trails off again, uncertain of where to go next.

“That sounds good, but I also want you to let him know how you feel.” Lily says gently. “MJ, you can feel in front of your kids, even if those feelings are hard to control. It’ll help Nick understand you, and, while it might be difficult initially, it’ll help Nick see the humanity in his mother.” MJ looks back down at the ground. Lily leans forward. “And I think he’d want to.” 

MJ rubs her temple again. “It’s messy.” She whispers, mostly to herself. “But I’m not usually a messy person.” MJ says matter-of-factly. “Well, I mean — you know what I mean.” She gives Lily a small smile. 

“Oh, I don’t think you are.” Lily chuckles. “But a little mess is good.”

“I’m getting used to that idea.” MJ sighs. She rests back in her seat, lost in thought.

“We have time left, if you’d like to practice.” Lily says, glancing at the clock. “Pretend I’m Nick.”

MJ sits up, taking a deep breath, stilling her nervous hands. This is just Lily, c’mon MJ, you can do this. “Okay.”


	14. Thank You for Being a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ spends some time with new friends she's made at Keystone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super cheesy title, I know. Thought it'd be interesting to see MJ interact with people not her family and her therapist, so I made up two new people.

MJ will be the first to say she’s not really good at making friends. It’s not that she wasn’t friendly and approachable, she was fine meeting people. She just... didn’t really put in the effort to maintain the relationship. Didn’t feel like she needed to. Yeah, she had friends from her years at college, but she’d lost contact with most of them when she and Steve moved out East, and didn’t really mind. She had her hands full raising her kids.

But then her kids grew up so fast and didn’t need her 24/7 anymore, and she started to feel like something was missing. It didn’t quite hit her until she was at Keystone actively meeting people that the thing that was missing was… friends.

And so she’s a little surprised when, a month into her stay at Keystone, she realizes she has some friends. People she actually looks forward to talking to and spending time with that aren’t her kids or Steve. There are actually two women she spends most of her down time with, if she’s not alone or with Steve.

There’s Anna, who she’d met during her first week at the center. Anna’s maybe 10 or so years younger than her, and had come to Keystone a week before MJ did. She’s only heard snippets of Anna’s story, but she could piece it together. She felt a sort of kinship with Anna, as they were both assaulted. Difference is, Anna had gotten addicted to opioids in the immediate aftermath of her assault, whereas MJ… got addicted 25 years later. Anna’s girlfriend had brought her in to Keystone.

Then there’s Noelle, who’s a little older than her. It’s Noelle’s third time at the center, which frightens MJ a little bit. The idea of a relapse is so very real… and takes the form of Noelle and her story. She had overdosed the day after Christmas in front of her three daughters, and, after a long conversation with her children, her oldest came with her to check her back in to rehab.

She’s not sure when exactly they became her friends, but suddenly she found herself sitting at lunch with the other two, chatting aimlessly about whether muffins and cupcakes are the same thing.

“Okay, but if I gave you a chocolate chip muffin-“ Anna starts.

“But wouldn’t that be like a chocolate chip cupcake?” Noelle interrupts, gesturing.

“What are your thoughts, MJ?” Anna turns to MJ.

“I’m honestly not sure. I mean, I wouldn’t call like… iced cupcakes muffins, but I suppose it’s the consistency of the cake that differentiates the two?”

“Okay but you say a chocolate chip MUFFIN. Which is clearly different from a chocolate chip CUPCAKE.” Anna emphasizes.

“I used to make chocolate chip cupcakes for my kids’ birthdays at school.” MJ says wistfully. “Frankie loved them, but Nick always picked out all the chips for some reason.”

“Okay, so if you pick out the chips in a chocolate chip cupcake, does that make that just… a vanilla cupcake? Or a vanilla muffin?” Anna says.

“This is way too confusing for me to handle.” MJ giggles. “My brain is fried from group therapy earlier.”

“I’m sure the one on one session won’t help either.” Noelle chuckles. “Maybe you can ask your therapist about the cupcake muffin thing. Perhaps she has some insight.”

“Hm. That’s a very interesting. Well, what do you think about that, Noelle?” Anna says, imitating a therapist.

They all laugh.

They sit in a comfortable silence, finishing up their lunch. Noelle glances at the time. “We still have a bit of time before our one on ones, you guys wanna walk outside?”

“Sure.” MJ leaps at any chance to go outside, ever since she and Steve had gone out to the garden that one time. She’s started to really appreciate the fresh air, even if it might be a little cold out. It makes her feel a little bit more alive. 

They put their dirty dishes away, cleaning up after themselves, before heading out, letting one of the staff members know that they were going on a walk.

The air outside is crisp and chilly, but not so cold that they need their coats. MJ inhales deeply, sighing in contentment.

“I didn’t know this place was out here.” Anna remarks. “It’s cute.”

“I came here with Steve the first time a few weeks ago.” 

“When’s your man coming to see you again? Tomorrow? In a few hours? Maybe stay the night?” Anna jokes. MJ playfully shoves her. They all know about Steve breaking the rules that one time, and how often Steve comes to visit her.

“My oldest used to visit me every weekend, but then she complained that the food was too repetitive and bland. Which, it does get to be, but hey.” Noelle shrugs. “It’s still food. But when she does come she brings me stuff they cooked and baked.”

“That’s nice. I used to love cooking and baking.” MJ says. “I mean… I still do. I just…” She trails off.

“I get it.” Noelle says. “It doesn’t feel the same. But that could change.”

“That’s how I met Becca, actually.” Anna says, a small smile on her face. “We were both volunteering at Relay for Life, and we both volunteered for the same shift to bake a shitload of cookies. And then I ate her out on the kitchen counter and we’ve been together ever since. You know, just fucking on kitchen counters everywhere.” MJ feels herself tense slightly. She’s not used to how vocal Anna is about her sex life, as she’s still very much wrestling with how to process her own (or lack thereof in the past two or so years). The first time Anna had brought up her sex life with Becca (and many other women, it turns out), she had to get up and leave the room, hurriedly excusing herself saying that she had to meet Steve (she didn’t, she just went to her room and sat there until dinnertime). Anna seems to have dealt with her own assault in a completely different way than she did, and seems very at ease talking about sex, often oversharing (in MJ’s opinion, but she’s working on being less judgmental).

“The last time I had sex on a kitchen counter-“

“When’s Becca coming?” MJ asks, interrupting Noelle. Her skin is crawling more and more; she wants to move on from this conversation.

“I’m not sure. This is normally the busy season for accountants, and I know she’s working SO much overtime, especially since her boss is apparently a nightmare.”

“I could text her.” MJ offers.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to risk getting your secret Steve hotline confiscated.” Anna teases.

“Secret Steve hotline- now that’s a new one.” MJ giggles. “You’re just jealous.” 

“Why would I be jealous of you being with a man.” Anna pretends to gag, as MJ and Noelle laugh. “No dick for me.”

“Yeah, honestly, MJ, men aren’t that great. My ex was a huge ass. Even my daughters agree.” Noelle supplies.

“But-“

“We know, we know, Steve is a wonderful, sweet man. He’s an exception. There are a few exceptions.” Anna says. “For instance, Prince Harry-“

“You just like Meghan Markle.” Noelle retorts.

“Correct.” Anna says matter of factly. “But her husband’s not too bad himself. Anyway, as I was saying- Prince Harry, Chris Pine, Idris Elba, Prince William when he was younger…”

“How did you figure that out?” MJ asks suddenly. She turns a slight shade of red, a little self conscious about asking the question. Anna looks at her, a little surprised. “I mean, my daughter said something about being bisexual before running away, and I… took it quite terribly- well, I overdosed later that day but it definitely wasn’t solely because of that- you know, build up of all the shit that was happening in my life-“ She trails off. A part of her feels so happy with herself for asking something on her mind — a small triumph. A month ago she would have been absolutely mortified to share any of these details, but she really feels like she can tell these girls anything. In a weird way, they’re all messed up just like her.

“Honestly? I just knew. Like my whole life. It was just something that made sense to me. I was lucky in that I don’t think I was raised in a way that I felt like I had to hide it.” Anna says truthfully. “But sexuality is its own process and people learn about themselves in their own way.”

“I… uh… told her that she was just trying to shock us. It came out in a very heated argument.” MJ confesses. “I know I didn’t respond the way I probably should have, but…”

“No, I know.” Noelle says gently. “Parenting is hard, and parenting as an opioid addict is even harder.”

“I think what’s important is just that you let Frankie know that she’s supported, and that you’ll love her every step of the way. Which, of course, I know you do and you will.” Anna offers. “Like I said, it’s a very different process from person to person and sometimes people know immediately and sometimes they’re not sure for 57 years and then it hits them, like my great aunt who in the last few years of her life ended up dating this woman in her nursing home.”

MJ moves to sit on a bench, and the other two join her, seated on either side. She stares aimlessly up at the sky, before closing her eyes, enjoying the gentle breeze on her cheeks.

“Sometimes I think about how it’s so wild that like… I was given a set of choices and I made them and then somehow along the way I made a wrong choice and I ended up here” She thinks aloud, opening her eyes. She moves her gaze to the ground, tracing patterns with the toe of her shoe.

“Those are 3am heart to heart thoughts, it’s 1:15pm now.” Anna deadpans.

“I mean, but like… I just… chose wrong. Like who let me make decisions.” MJ chuckles nervously.

“MJ, first of all, not all of those were choices.” Noelle argues gently. “It took quite a few years of unlearning — and I’m still unlearning — but your addiction was not a choice, it’s a disease. It’s not your fault.”

MJ nods, but it’s clear she still doesn’t quite believe that. “Well…”

“For starters, you didn’t choose to be assaulted.” Noelle points out. “Neither did Anna.”

They both tense slightly. They’re both still getting used to discussing the difficult problems in their lives so bluntly — but that’s also what Noelle’s like. Being in and out of rehab three times steels her. That’s honestly a part of why MJ gravitated towards her; her honesty is very refreshing, and Noelle feels like a vaguely maternal figure to her.

“And society did not help you figure out how to cope with the pain of that.” Noelle presses earnestly. “Didn’t do me any favors either. Still doesn’t, to be honest. But they’re working on it. Places like these with people who work here help.”

“I know.” MJ says quietly. She reaches over to squeeze Anna’s hand gently. They’re now both staring at a spot on the ground.

“It’s not your fault.” Noelle says emphatically, to both Anna and MJ. There’s a silence as Noelle’s words sit with them. Repeated all the time by their therapists, their families, people at the center.

“It’s kind of nice, being here.” Anna says finally. “Like… you know. Knowing that you’re not super alone.” Anna gently nudges MJ.

“I think that’s one of the best parts about rehab.” Noelle muses. “It’s being with people who know what you’re going through, and who understand all the struggles and pain that comes with being a drug addict. Like… we all know we’re people under it.”

Not looking at either of them, MJ says softly. “Thanks guys.”

“Of course, what are friends for?” Noelle says. 

MJ feels her chest swell a little bit with warmth at Noelle. It really is nice to have people in her life that aren’t her kids, Steve, or the mean moms. 

At that moment, one of the staff members steps out with Curtis so that he can go to the bathroom. Curtis bounds over to them, receiving their friendly pats, wagging his tail. After a few minutes, Noelle checks her watch.

“Oh shit, we should go back in.” Noelle says hastily, as they all stand up and walk back inside.

“Therapy time!” MJ says mock cheerily.

“My favorite time of day.” Anna says sarcastically. “I absolutely love how I emerge just fully emotionally drained every time.”

“And that’s how we opioid girls do it.” Noelle jokes, holding her hand up for high fives, glancing at the other two. “Too soon?” She grins at their slightly shocked faces, before they all dissolve into laugher.

MJ truly doesn’t remember the last time she felt this at ease with people not in her family (or her therapist). She feels like a more complete person, a more normal person, a better person. She resolves to maintain these relationships for as long as she can — after all, no one else in her life would understand what she’s going through. It’s nice to not feel so alone.


End file.
